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/” 

S. S. HEWLETT, 

• » . 

SUPERINTENDENT OF ST. CATHERINE’S HOSPITAL, AMRITSAR, N. INDIA; 
AUTHOR OF “DAUGHTERS OF THE KING” AND “NONE OF SELF AND ALL OF THEE,’' 


“The water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water 
springing up into everlasting life.” 


NEW YOKE: 

A. D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

38 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET. 


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Hmritsar 


Dark is the night of sin and death, 

Poison seems borne on every breath ! 

Passing the streets and lanes, I weep 
For the souls who are sleeping a fatal sleep ; 

For heedless throngs bound fast in his chain, 

Whose cruel wrongs strengthen his reign. 

Idols and sin — a religion of lies — 

Crying for vengeance to God’s pure skiesj 
Thousands of women crushed and oppressed, 

No joy in the home, no hope in the breast ; 
Thousands of men delighting in evil. 

Thousands of children trained for the devil. 

But listen ! The Voice of One who knows 
The utmost pang of their bitterest woes. 

Listen ! He speaks in love and pity — 

“ I have much people in this city'; 

I have those who jpray by day and night 

That My Kingdom may come and My Will be done. 

And souls be brought to light. 

I have those who weep under Satan’s yoke. 

Who believe the free ‘ Come unto Me,’ 

Which they heard I spoke. 

I have those who turn from the way of sin. 

Who not too late are seeking the gate, 

And will enter in. 

I have those who worlc through weary years. 

Who will one day reap the golden sheaf 
They are sowing in tears. 

I have those who joy and sing and praise, 

And those who shine in My light divine 
All their happy days.” 

Listen again ! For angels rejoice 

At the well-known sound of that dearest Voice, 

And something like His their love and pity 
As they carry to heaven the joy of the city ! 



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4 


INTEODUCTION. 


The following is a tale. No apology is needed for 
gathering together facts from real life and weaving 
them into the form of a tale embodying great 
principles and teaching great lessons. The object 
of such tales is to afford useful and instructive read- 
ing for young Christians, and reading which is likely 
to draw out their sympathies towards Chrises work in 
heathen lands. It is also hoped that at ladies’ working- 
parties this kind of reading may be found of use. 

There is nothing really fictitious in the following 
story ; the characters are drawn from life, though pur- 
posely disguised, as are also the scenes in which they 
are placed. The conversations recorded are such as 
have actually taken place to the writer’s knowledge, 
while every aspect under which native life is depicted 
is absolutely true. 

In some respects a tale of this sort will convey a 
more just impression of the life of native Christians, 
and the trials and difficulties of converts, than may 
be gained from a report of work among them. The 


INTRODUCTION, 


viii 

reason of this is, that in the report there is always 
a desire to tell the best of every one, whereas in a 
tale in which all are disguised, the writer can freely 
write from life as it is ; and giving persons fictitious 
names and fictitious dwelling-places, can, without 
fear of unkind exposure of any given person’s faults, 
show that there are Christians and Christians, even 
in India, and that all are not drinking deeply, as 
they might be, at the Well-Spring of Immortality, 
Some are in consequence sickly, and many sleep. 
On the other hand, in a tale like this, good points 
can be shown without that fear of flattering or over- 
praising so inevitable when individuals are spoken 
of in reports with special commendation of their 
“devotion,” “zeal,” &c. ; and we can rejoice to 
know that there are mothers in India like little 
David’s ; there are schools from which they may 
come forth earnest, whole-hearted Christian women ; 
and there are men who, even in official and Govern- 
ment posts, are not “ ashamed of Jesus,” or neglectful 
of their duty to “ tell it out ” among their still heathen 
country people “that the Lord is King.” Would to 
God there were more such ! 

The word Amritsar means the Well-Spring of 
Immortality, It is a great pity that this meaning 
has been obscured by bad spelling, and that the 
appearance of the word as Umntzur has led to an 


INTRODUCTION. 


IX 


entirely wrong pronunciation of the really beautiful- 
sounding name. If we allow it to be written in 
such an utterly wrong form, we shall ultimately 
forget and altogether lose the remarkably • striking 
meaning of the word. No doubt the initial U was 
originally employed in order to convey to English 
people the idea that the first syllable of the name 
was to be pronounced so as to rhyme with the Eng- 
lish word hum; whereas if A were written, it appeared 
likely that English people would make that first 
syllable rhyme with ham. But it never does any good 
to try to lead people right by showing them a wrong 
way. Proof of this is found in the fact that many 
people educated enough to have a wider acquaintance 
with the letter U than to limit its sound to that of 
0 in come have naturally taken to read Umritzur as 
if it were Oomritzoor. Kegarding the 2, it is sufficient 
to say that it had not even the excuse which the u 
had for being found in the word, viz., that it was 
to help English people to pronounce it, for the correct 
sound of the first letter of this last syllable is dis- 
tinctly 5 , and not 2: at all. The first syllable is a, and 
it is pronounced like the a in the English word above, 
that is, as short as possible. Its meaning is simply not, 
and therefore when occurring in a word meaning not 
death, it may be used for the antagonist of death, and 
the two syllables not death mean life. 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


Now, mrit means death, therefore a mrit means 
life or not death ; sar means source or spring ; so that 
the literal meaning of the whole word is not-deaih- 
spring. One of the common sweets sold in the 
bazars at Amritsar is a mrit, or antagonist to death, 
of which no more need be said than that it is supposed 
to be wholesome ! 

Well, there it is, that far-away city in the famous 
Panjab, of which it is the commercial capital. There 
is the fine name, with its beautiful meaning, and 
that meaning so false. Where shall we seek in A- 
mritsar for the Well of Life ? Not in anything con- 
nected with that so-called Sacred Tank from which 
the city received its name, and round which it has 
grown up within the last three hundred years. 

Some venture to hold that the religions of the 
heathen can have in them truth and life enough to 
guide into the love of God those who will follow 
them with all their hearts according to their 
light. Let any who hold such an idea come and 
see what Sikhism (the purest form of reformed 
Hinduism) can do, what it can offer as the “Well 
of Life,’' what a dirty tank at the best, and how 
far below the mark even from a sanitary point of 
view. Let them see into the depths of the real 
teaching of those who, professing to have reformed 
their religion and purged out idolatry, now prac- 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


tically worship this Tank, and the Granth, and the 
Tomb of the Bdbd Atal; let them watch in the 
course of one morning hundreds of unsatisfied, un- 
happy men and ivomen, with no knowledge what- 
ever of any way of escape from sin, come one by 
one, with wonderful perseverance and obedience, in 
any weather, under any circumstances, to worship 
the book and to press [shampoo) the edges of the 
Tomb and the threshold of the Temple door, only to 
go away again as weary, as sin-burdened, and as un- 
satisfied as they came, and surely the most sanguine 
admirers of the beauties of heathen religions will be 
constrained to feel that about this boasted Well-Spring 
of Immortality there is for every one of its votaries 
‘‘ the savour of death unto death.” 

It is Mritsar — not A-mritsar ! What can we do ? 
Oh ! it has made the heart sing for joy as the mis- 
sionary has spent an afternoon on the marble pave- 
ment at the edge of that boasted Well-Spring, and 
given away to those deceived sinners the words of 
Him who said, “ If any man thirst, let him come 
unto Me and drink.” Seventy to one hundred por- 
tions could easily be given away in one afternoon, 
with a few quiet words about the real Water of Life 
spoken to every one who took a portion, and there 
would still be crowds of non-readers, with a few of 
whom, perhaps, conversations might be held. One 


INTRODUCTION. 


xii 

advantage of the position is, that very many of the 
people who come there have an earnest though 
wrongly directed religiousness : — 

“ Jesus the water of life hath given, 

Freely, freely, freely !” 

There, if anywhere, the Word of God should be given 
“ without money and without price.” Oh for means 
and for workers ! 

To the writer of this simple story the very name 
of Amritsar is unspeakably dear, and the characters 
herein depicted were recalled from real life and clothed 
with their present surroundings during a time of such 
severe illness that no power was left her to do any- 
thing for it, except to think and pray concerning the 
present and future of its thirsting, striving, perishing 
thousands. Every part of the city is full of interest 
to the traveller, to the linguist, to the philanthropist, 
to the student of human nature with its many com- 
plexities and mysteries ; and above all to the Christian 
teacher who searches among these Cashmiris, Afghans, 
Hindus, Hindustani Mohammedans, Panjdbi Moham- 
medans, Sikhs, and Mihtars for those who thirst, and 
for those who may be induced to thirst, for something 
better than this world’s wealth, and who may be led 
to the true Spring or Fountain of Life. Full of tre- 
mendous importance is the work opening out for 


INTRODUCTION. 


xiii 

men and women workers in the villages, and rich will 
be the harvest of their toil ; but may God’s people be 
led to give a very large share of their wealth and their 
power and their efforts to our great cities, and be 
preserved from the folly of raising the cry, “ Gospel- 
hardened ! ” just at a period when there is a thirst 
for knowledge and a spirit of religious inquiry such 
as has never been known before, especially among the 
educated young men of our city schools and colleges 
(who must be reached and won if we are ever to see 
the doors of their zenanas opened to the light of the 
Gospel). What if our great cities wax worse and 
worse until the day of our Lord’s return ? In the 
very fact we shall but see prophecy fulfilled ; and 
meanwhile our duty is to gather out for Him until 
He come ; and the hearts which love these great cities 
and their teeming multitudes will not always ache 
and think of them with sorrow ; for when He reigns 
in Jerusalem over all the earth, and ships from 
Tarshish and the Isles bring presents to Him there, at 
His Feet will be merchants whom we shall recognise, 
and wealth which will be familiar to us, as having 
come from the hdzdrs of cities like A-mritsar ! 


S. S. HEWLETT. 



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CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 

UNDER THE SHADE OF THE PIPAL-TREE . 

. 

. 

PAGE 

I 

THE OLD man’s STORY . 

CHAPTER ir. 



I I 

CHAPTER III. 

THE schoolmaster’s DILEMMA 


. 

• 37 

THE goldsmith’s SON . 

CHAPTER IV. 



• 52 

‘‘ A LITTLE CHILD SHALL 

CHAPTER V. 

LEAD THEM ” . 


, 

73 

“ THINE FOR EVER ” 

CHAPTER VI. 


• 

. 92 

CALLED IN COURT . 

CHAPTER YH. 


. 

. 114 

AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR 

CHAPTER YIII. 

• • • • 



• 145 


XVI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER IX. 

PAGE 

A CUP OF COLD WATER . . I76 

CHAPTER X. 

THE STORY OF AN OLD BIBLE. -185 

CHAPTER XL 

“that life-giving stream” . . . . . *195 

CHAPTER XII. 

SEEING AND SATISFIED . . . . . . . . 20 J 



THE 


WELL-SPRING OE IllORTALITL. 


CHAPTER I. 

UNDER THE SHADE OF THE PfPAL-TREE. 

“Where shall Avisdom be found? and where is the place of understand- 
ing ? Man knoweth not the price thereof ; neither is it found in the land 
of the living. The depth saith, It is not in me ; and the sea saith, It is not 
with me. It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed for 
the price thereof. . . . Whence then cometh wisdom? and where is the 
place of understanding? . . . God understandeth the way thereof, and 
He knoweth the place thereof. . . . Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is 
wisdom ; and to depart from evil is understanding.” — Job xxviii. 12. 

It was noonday in the month of June, when a 
traveller, who was slowly wending his way along one 
of the circuitous roads of an inhabited part of the 
Lower Himalayas, in the north of India, seated him- 
self to rest by a spring of clear water, which, gushing 
out of the mountain-side with great force, had formed 
for itself, no one knows how many long years before, 
a natural basin under a spreading pipal-tree. The 
lovely grotto which, with the mosses and ferns shelter- 
ing themselves in its many nooks and corners, formed 

A 


2 


THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


the back of the basin, was no work or device of man. 
It was one of Nature's own beauties. The rock had 
slipped and broken away in many places, and had 
in many others been hollowed out in every possible 
grotesqueness and picturesqueness, and one could 
imagine (letting the fancy run on into a “ parable of 
nature”) that, instead of moaning and lamenting, as 
man might have done, that life had been rudely inter- 
fered with, that it was no longer possible for great 
purposes to be aimed at or great aspirations fulfilled, 
since the shock of dissociation from old surroundings 
and the force of new and untried circumstances must 
necessarily render the future gloomy and unfortunate, 
this broken rock seemed to have stretched forth her 
arms and received into her expanded bosom germs 
of life from Nature's bounteous hand, and to have 
nurtured those germs so lovingly in the very crevices 
caused by adversity, looking forth the while with 
cheerful though rugged face, as if to ask for something 
more to do, for some further way of being useful; 
that she had become during her training, by trial, for 
lowly service, a wondrous picture, fair and fresh and 
lovely, “a thing of beauty,'' which left upon the 
passing stranger's heart the sense of ne'er-to-be-for- 
gotten joy. 

It would have been impossible for any tired traveller 
to he insensible to the enticing beauties and charms of 
such a lovely retreat, and hence here might be seen 


UNDER THE PIP AL TREE. 


3 


bathing weary feet in the hasin below, or drinking in 
cleverly managed hands from the spring above, or 
stretched upon the upper face of the rock in a noon- 
tide sleep under the shady tree, or only sitting for a 
few snatched moments on the cool stones near the 
ever-dripping water, just to recoup their strength 
before continuing the hot and tiring journey up or 
down the hill — travellers as different from each other 
in their dress, speech, occupation, education, and pur- 
poses as the soft moss was different from its rocky 
bed, or the pebbles in the bottom of the basin from 
the pipal-tree’s leaves which danced in the sunshine 
above. For this is India ; and the shady nook in 
which we are for a while forgetting the glaring heat 
and the dusty plains ; and the delicious splash of the 
mountain stream above, with its accompaniment of 
lighter “drip, drip, drip” into many lesser basin- 
like corners in the recesses of the rocky reservoir be- 
neath, cheating us so charmingly into believing that 
we never knew what it was to be scorched in our 
city-home as at the mouth of a fiery furnace — these 
are the delights of a resting-place on the high-road 
from one of the stations on the burning plains to 
a mountain sanitarium ; and the stream of human life 
which so continuously passes that restful and enticing 
spot is wonderfully interesting to watch, carrying on, 
as it does, men from so many different homes, and 
with so many different objects and hopes in their 


4 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 

hearts, as they tread the mountain way. We shall 
understand this better as we hear the story of one 
weary traveller who seated himself by the refreshing 
water on that summer day. 

He was an old man, as age goes in India. We 
of Western growth might have guessed him to 
have passed the appointed “threescore years and 
ten” of human life. But no; he was only just 
sixty, though his white hair and stooping posture 
and feeble gait deceived the casual observer into 
thinking him burdened with the weight of many 
more years. 

His dress was coarse and scanty, and each separate 
piece of cloth of which it was composed (for none of 
his clothes could be rightly called made-up articles of 
dress) was dyed a curious ochre-colour, by which he 
was known to all who met him as a faqir or holy 
beggar. 

As in every other occupation, trade, or profession 
(call it what you will), so in that of the faqir, it is 
true that men of all sorts are represented in its ranks, 
and it is probably not too much to say that every 
variety of mental tone, every stamp of moral char- 
acter, may be found among faqirs. There are the 
low, vulgar cheats (any number of them) whose one 
object is to accumulate money at the cost of all 
virtue and all decency. Holy men, forsooth! who 
can draw on the credulities of a people debased 


UNDER THE PI PAL-TREE. 


5 


by idolatry and superstition, and persuade them to 
pay for the gratification of gazing on a naked and 
vilely unclean wretch the while he affects to cut out 
his own tongue and hold it up before their astonished 
eyes, and then to replace it and wag it as glibly as 
before in the service of the devil, arguing that if he 
can work such a miracle as this he must be worthy 
of trust and worship, and — most important of all — 
of payment ! 

One could laugh at the sorry spectacle of a man 
willing to use the noble faculties given him by his 
beneficent Creator, just to perfect himself in the ugly 
trick of rolling back his own tongue into an almost 
inconceivably small space in order to make room in 
his mouth for the freshly cut-off sheep’s tongue 
with which he is going to deceive the senses of 
his degraded admirers ; and one could ironically 
wish him joy of his sickening occupation if it were 
not for the overwhelming sense of shame and sorrow 
which must fill the heart of the Christian as he 
meditates on the revolting scene, and remembers 
that man sunk so fearfully low is in all such acts 
of depravity stamping out the last trace of Him 
who created him upright and holy and in His own 
image. 

There are no forms of human suffering or infirmity 
which faqirs do not profess to cure, and the processes 
to be undergone by those who allow themselves to be 


6 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


practised upon are not at all dissimilar in their essen- 
tial characteristics from those prescribed by professing 
healers among the gipsy tribes in civilised lands. The 
main features of these impostors are brazen-faced lying, 
clever sleight-of-hand, a certain amount of knowledge 
of human nature, a smattering of some kind of philo- 
sophic or medical or religious lore, or the semblance 
of it, and, above all, an impudent self-assertion and 
hypocritical proclamation of sanctity perfectly amazing 
for arrogance to all except the duped, on whose part 
nothing is requisite save an utterly astounding stock of 
credulity and a fair supply of pice. 

But there are faqirs and faqirs, and all are not of this 
class of knaves, who can only be described as “ deceiv- 
ing and being deceived.” 

Some are, with more or less sincerity of purpose, 
seeking to lead a life of repentance and self-mortifica- 
tion on account of sin, and by the practice of austerities, 
often undergone with devotion and patience worthy of 
a better cause, to win for themselves the favour of God 
and everlasting life. 

All in the darkness of ignorance and superstition as 
these poor deluded ones are, they are yet not so debased 
and evil as those others of their fraternity whose suc- 
cessful attempts to become rich at the cost of their 
foolish followers and victims have given the name of 
faqyr an evil repute which scarcely leaves room to 
believe anything good of one of the clan. 


UNDER THE PI PAL-TREE, 


7 


The old man who wearily took his seat on the 
mossy stone by the splashing water, and reached forth 
two hard and weather-worn hands to carry the refresh- 
ing draught to his thirsty lips, bore on his countenance 
traces of severe suffering and toil, but not of mean 
trickery or debasing evil. He had an eager, searching, 
unsatisfied look in his eyes ; and a firm decision, 
as of one bent on fulfilling a mission or gaining an 
end, seemed to be written in every line of his rugged 
features. 

For some time after taking his seat and laying 
aside his wallet he leaned thoughtfully on the top 
of his travellers staff and gazed earnestly at the 
gushing water. 

Other men who were also sitting there to rest 
spoke at first no word to the venerable stranger, for 
they knew by his dress and appearance that he was 
a “ holy man,’^ and they imagined that, until he 
spoke, he would not be pleased to have rudely in- 
terrupted his silent intercourse with the Great Un- 
known Being whose follower they believed him to 
be. They rightly conjectured what his wishes and 
feelings were, for the old man closed his eyes for a 
moment and spoke in a half-audible voice as if to 
some one unseen, the meanwhile handling, and ap- 
parently counting, the berries which hung round his 
neck on a string, strikingly like the rosary of the 
Koman Catholics. 


8 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


‘‘Not yet,” he murmured, “not yet have I found 
the grand object of all my toils. Great Spirit ! still 
lead on; but, oh! make short my journey! make 
easy my difficulties ! make smooth my rough places ! 
lest, having searched through all my weary life for 
that which alone can give me rest, I perish miser- 
ably without Thy light and favour.” 

The old man raised his head. His look was very 
troubled, and he pressed one hand upon his brow, 
as if to think more intently, looking out from his 
leafy and cool retreat over the hills and towards 
the sky, seeming to long to pierce those clouds all 
glittering in the sunshine, and see the mystery of 
that creative and sustaining power which must be 
there, if he could only find and fathom it ! And 
surely that power must be the same, the very same, 
which alone could take the sting and misery out of 
sinful lives and make men all like God ! He longed 
for God ; he longed to know Him ; yet the more he 
strove, the deeper grew his darkness ; and the more 
he sought for satisfaction in the wonders of God’s 
creation, the more insatiable became his thirst, the 
more intense the passionate longing of his soul for 
something all as yet unknown, unfathomed, and un- 
searchable. 

At length, after a deep sigh, he turned himself 
towards the little group of other travellers and 
spoke— “ brothers; is it well with you all?” 




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“ And so . . . the group of resting wayfarers listened to the old man’s story. 

— Page 9. 






UNDER THE PI PAL-TREE. 


9 


Immediately many little marks of honour were 
shown him, and one or two of the men did hom- 
age before him in a manner which proved that they 
gave his sanctity a very exalted place in their imagi- 
nations. 

He was passive under rather than pleased with their 
tokens of respect ; and after a moment’s pause he 
asked them if they knew him. Every one answered 
that they had not had that honour until to-day, but 
that it required no great discernment on their parts to 
know him holy and worthy of all their reverence and 
love. He smiled sadly, and asked if they would like 
to hear the story of an old man’s life. Gladly did 
they assent to this proposal ; for, whatever be the sub- 
ject, the people of India love to talk and to hear talk- 
ing. And so, in the sultry noontide, with the water 
splashing from its source above into its rocky basin 
beneath, and with the soft mountain airs now and 
then gently stirring the light foliage overhead, and 
the birds of the many little forests of the hill-sides 
sending forth their melodious songs of praise, the 
group of resting wayfarers, in various attitudes of in- 
terest and attention, listened to the old man’s story. 
Possibly some heard all he said without noticing any- 
thing peculiarly striking in his look and manner, but 
the more careful observer would see an eager, un- 
satisfied, searching expression on that fine, rugged 
countenance, an expression which, in all its unsatisfied 


lo THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


yearning, seemed yet to betoken a knowledge that 
satisfaction had been claimed by some men as attain- 
able, and which appeared, in its mute, pathetic wist- 
fulness, to say — 

“Give me this water, that I thirst not!” 



CHAPTER II. 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY. 

There is something which touches the heart 
With a pity which makes it sore, 

In the sight of the weary pilgrim 
Completing his long threescore, 

Whose life has been spent in searching, 

AVith steadfast purpose and will, 

For something he feels to be lacking, 

And here it is lacking still ! 

The years as they passed have not brought it, 
No sages the secret have told ; 

He has longed, he has prayed, he has sought it. 
He has wished he could buy it with gold. 

And now the grey hairs are upon him. 

And dim are the wistful, sad eyes ; 

And life, with its searching and toiling. 

Behind him all desolate lies. 

As we pass on the world’s dusty highway, 

We gaze on the dear, rugged face. 

And see of unsatisfied longing 
Full many a pitiful trace ; 

And the thought in our hearts may be pleading 
(Perhaps he will hear and believe !), 

“’Tis Jesus, ’Ms Jesus you’re needing. 

And Jesus will sinners receive ! ” 

Yes, speak to him, brothers and sisters. 

Speak, speak, in the fulness of love ; 

Shall he perish by earth’s weary highway, 
While the well-spring of life from above 
Is pouring its plentiful waters 
For him in his thirst and distress ? 

Oh, speak to him, brothers and sisters. 

The One Name all-powerful to bless ! 


12 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


My name is Narain Ddss. I was born in Benares, the 
city famous all over the world as great and holy and 
dedicated to worship. My father was a worker in 
brass, and my earliest recollections are of the brass- 
workers’ hdzdr and all its glittering wares. Plates, 
cups, and all kinds of cooking utensils were sold there, 
and so were bells and gongs of every size and shape 
and sound, the handles of the bells being generally 
formed in the shape of some devil's figure, thus doing 
honour to Shiv, Ganesh, Hamumum, or Indrd. My 
greatest delight was to be carried astride on my father's 
shoulder to this hdzdr, and to be seated among the 
bright and pretty goods, with which I loved to play, 
and whose jingling noise I fully appreciated. I was, 
perhaps, about three years old when I was first taken 
by my father as his companion in this way, and at that 
time there was another little boy, whose name was 
Shiv Ji, going daily with his father, a seller of fruit 
in a chauh where our hdzdr joined another, and where 
all day long he sat by his father’s fruit-baskets, and 
watched and listened until he learnt how to barter and 
bargain for himself. As we grew older that little boy 
and I became great friends, and one of our first friendly 
acts was when I exchanged with him one of my father’s 
very small brass bells for a fine melon. The melon 
was soon devoured, and its rind and seeds trampled 
under foot in the street, but the little bell remained 
as a witness of the transaction, and I nearly lost the 


THE OLD MAN*S STORY. 


13 


companionship of Shiv Jl, but was able at last to 
persuade my father that my little friend was not a 
thief. 

Playing all day in the shop, I saw and heard much 
which was unsuited to’ the understanding of my 
tender age, and a spirit of inquiry was awakened 
within me which my father was often quite unable to 
satisfy. I was specially interested in the Holy River, 
as I suppose all Benares children are ; and great was 
my joy on those festive days when decorations and 
illuminations showed the love and loyalty of the 
people for “ Md, Ganga.” My parents duly instructed 
me in all the duties of religion, and every proper 
ceremony was observed on all the great days of my 
life as long as I remained with them. I had a great 
respect for my father, partly because I admired his 
handicraft, and partly because every one said he was a 
good man ; but I never remember any very great love 
for him, as I feared his displeasure and disliked to 
see him passionate ; and still further, I could never 
believe that any one who could do something which 
I once knew him do could be, by any possibility, be- 
loved. I will tell you what that something was. I 
was passionately fond of my mother, and greatly 
afflicted, as far as a child could be, when I noticed 
that she was not happy. 

Poor thing ! how could she be happy ? When I 
first remember playing with her, at times when we 


14 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


happened to he alone, I was about three, and she, I 
believe, only sixteen years of age. I was her first-born 
child, and, as she delighted to call me, her star, her 
fiower, her treasure. I had come to her when, as a 
mere child, she was undergoing the trial of severe 
unkindness from my grandmother, who had, of course, 
as the mother-in-law, unlimited power over her and 
the other Bahus, of whom there were three in the 
house. The sole cause of the unkindness was the fact 
that my mother was poor, and my grandmother had 
hoped to become very rich by obtaining women with 
plenty of jewels and money as wives for her four sons. 
When my father’s marriage had been arranged there 
had been some unfair dealing on the part of my 
mother’s family, and it was not until the ceremonies 
were completed that it was discovered that the bride 
was weakly and delicate in health, and far less rich in 
worldly goods than had been supposed. Many people 
had then advised my father to decline to have his 
bride brought home, but he had not been so displeased 
as his mother, and had accepted the poor little wife 
without remonstrance. His mother had, from the hour 
of the child’s arrival in the house (a poor, sad little 
thing of only nine years of age), vented her anger and 
disappointment upon her, and had made her life very 
miserable indeed. My father’s elder brother’s wife 
was a woman of an unkind temper and selfish dis- 
position, and she always made common cause with my 


THE OLD MAN^S STORY. 


15 


grandmother to add to the unhappiness of the poor 
little Bahu. 

When I was only two years old, two little brothers 
came to be the sharers with me of my mother’s 
love. Of course, I have no recollection of the event, 
but have very distinct remembrances of my poor 
mother’s oft-repeated histories afterwards. She would 
tell me again and again of the joy in the house 
when these twin sons were born, of how all that 
a man in so humble a position as my father’s could 
do to mark the auspicious day was ungrudgingly 
done, and of the heavy debts which he incurred in 
order to have more grandeur and feasting in honour 
of his twin boys. 

Then she would pause, and sigh and weep, and say 
how she had fondly hoped that perhaps now the heart 
of her mother-in-law might soften towards her, and 
she might begin to see happy days, full of feasting and 
good-humour and mirth, while all people would look 
upon her with great honour and respect, as she was at 
the early age of fifteen the mother of three sons. But 
her fond hopes all perished, for when my little twin 
brothers were only six weeks old our city of Benares 
was visited by a severe epidemic of smallpox, and 
although I entirely escaped the disease, those two 
hapless infants took it, and died within two or three 
days of each other, leaving my young mother to suffer 
not alone the anguish of her grief at their untimely 



I 


THE OLD MAN^S STORY, 


17 


of love for him which should naturally have found 
place in my young heart. 

A little sister was born. There was no joy. I can 
remember that; yes, I remember it all. I remember 
my grandmother s angry face, and my aunt’s scornful 
laugh, and the uneasy exclamations of the old women 
who were there smoking hookah and discussing the 
possible offences against the gods which could have 
brought this calamity upon our house, and upon them, 
for each had received two annas when the poor little 
girl was born, instead of the more free-handed bakh- 
shish which would have been theirs had another son 
appeared to rejoice the family. 

And I remember, too, that pretty little sister. I 
thought her pretty and nice ; and so did my mother, I 
am sure, though she was, of course, very *sad and dis- 
appointed to think that the gods had not given her 
another son rather than this girl, whom no one seemed 
to want. 

For a few hours all was quiet in our house. My 
father had left me at home all day, and had said 
that he was not going to the shop, but only to see 
and consult the Brahman priests on an important 
matter. 

When he returned I could not understand his 
look. Was he angry or sad? And why did he look 
at me so sorrowfully as he took some pice from his 
pocket and bade me go to a rather distant shop and 

B 


i8 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 

buy some sweets? However, I went gladly enough, 
for even in the bitterest and most mysterious hour 
of a child’s life sweets are sweets! A little servant- 
boy, who cooked food when required, or took care 
of me, or fetched things from the hdzdr, accom- 
panied me on my errand ; and in about half-an-hour 
we returned, enjoying together our feast. But as 
we entered the small square court which formed 
the principal part of our house I heard loud cries 
proceeding from my mother’s tiny room, and soon 
discovered that the little sister who was already in- 
stalled in my fond imagination as the future sharer 
of my mirth and welcome partaker of my sweets 
was nowhere to he found. 

I need not enlarge on this subject, brothers. You 
all know what had happened, and that such scenes 
must have their place in a correct Hindu household. 
It is not reckoned good to allow too many female 
children to live, and there would be innumerable social 
and other difficulties (at least so our teachers say) if 
prompt measures were not taken in a just proportion of 
cases. But alas for the mother whose strength of love 
is unable to save her offspring from such a cruel fate ! 
Alas for the breaking heart of that young creature of 
less than twenty summers who had seen death already 
snatch her sons, and who must now, according to the 
unbending decrees of fate, let go her longing, loving 
hold of her little daughter’s infant life in the hope of 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY. 


19 


propitiating Shiv, whose angry fiat would not allow her 
to keep her boys ! For what to that young mother is 
the question of daughter or son? True, her honour 
and that of her family are concerned in her having 
male children ; but let any mother under heaven tell 
whether one circumstance can intensify a mother's 
joy in possession, or add anything to the poignancy 
of her grief in bereavement. To hope, and then to 
have, only to lose ! To be a mother, knowing all the 
pain and all the bliss which that word means ; to hold 
that little life for a few short hours in her sheltering, 
loving bosom, and then to lose it all, and for ever ! 
What could it now 'matter to her whether the lost 
treasure had been son or daughter? Therefore, do 
not be surprised that my poor young mother wept, 
and refused to be comforted. I was very angry, and 
as I knew that none could have done this deed 
without my father's consent, there sprang up in my 
heart a feeling of shrinking from him, which almost 
amounted to hatred. 

I did not know then how strong had been the pres- 
sure brought to bear upon him before he could be per- 
suaded to throw away his little child's life in order to 
appease the wrath of an angry god. 

A few years passed away, and I was going daily to 
the bazar, no longer as a child playing with the pretty 
toys, but as a growing lad upon whom, as a poor man's 
son, rested the necessity of working hard for his daily 


20 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


bread. There were no opportunities in those times for 
boys like me to get the kind of learning which has 
since been brought to us by foreigners, and which has 
made so many changes in our country. Of course, 
there was learning far greater already stored up in our 
sacred books, but it was different in itself and different 
in its object. All that marvellous knowledge of the 
Great Being from whom our Brahmans can trace their 
descent, and who ages ago made known to them His 
will and endued them with His power — that knowledge 
we understand to be an essentially different thing from 
all the well-taught sciences and arts which can be so 
easily acquired in the present day, and the key to 
which can be found in the hands of every student in 
the many schools and colleges which are so changing, 
and in some ways benefiting, our country. We cannot 
but see the advantages which there are in the learning 
of the foreigners, but we should be untrue to our ancient 
faith if we did not contend that, in spite of all appear- 
ances to the contrary y it is in the Vedas that man finds 
the only real knowledge.^ 

From our Brahmans I had learned as much as it was 
supposed necessary for a boy in my rank of life to know ; 
but I was always longing for something further, and 
puzzling myself greatly about many questions concern- 


^ Nothing is more astonishing than the unreasoning persistence of heathen 
philosophers long after they have seen the undeniable advantages of Chris- 
tian education. 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY. 


21 


ing which I was sure books, if I could but read them, 
would have supplied me with most satisfactory answers. 
I mean no blame to our ancient religion and customs 
when I say that it is a pity that youths should carry 
about in their souls a thirst which nothing they are 
conversant with seems at all able to quench. I can 
describe my own sensation of longing for knowledge at 
the time of which I speak as nothing else than a great, 
burning, insatiable thirst. 

I spoke to my father, but he said that I ought not to 
indulge such vain fancies, as not for poor brassworkers, 
but only for Brahman priests, were the treasures of 
knowledge. 

Then I would go down to the Biver, and standing 
on its bank in a devout attitude, gaze intently on 
the holy waters, and sigh for some power of under- 
standing why they had such wondrous efficacy, that 
even when carried hundreds of miles to distant scenes 
of misery and death, they never failed in their sacred 
mission of bringing blessing to man ; and if even a small 
quantity of water from Md, Gangd,'s beneficent streams 
were duly used in cleansing any mortal just setting 
forth on that great and awful journey of which we call 
the first step deaths he is sure of a safer and swifter 
passage because absolved from those earthly defile- 
ments which, but for this precious gift of Heaven to 
man, might have brought him into thousands of years of 
heavy woe, and added no one can tell how much to the 


22 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


number of his transmigrations, making his miseries be- 
fore his final perfection in the presence of Brahm almost 
interminable and unbearable. Then I would cry to 
Md Gang4 and say, “If these things, O mother! are 
true, then satisfy me. Just as thou dost not deny thy 
gentle waters to quench the thirst of any man who 
drinks here on thy banks, so do thou, if thou canst, 
satisfy the thirst of my soul ! ’’ But, alas ! brothers, I 
remained unsatisfied. 

In all my walks and amusements there was no 
one whom I more delighted to have as a com- 
panion than Shiv Ji, my little friend of the fruit- 
stall ; and when we boys were about ten years old 
a marriage was arranged for me with his sister, 
whose age was then only seven years. With this 
arrangement I had, of course, nothing to do, but 
I was pleased to have Shiv Ji not only as a friend, 
but as a brother. 

To a great extent he sympathised with me in my 
longings and regrets, and he often advised me to do 
some extra pujas or repeat with more fervour my 
mantras, in the hope that I might get that rest of 
mind I so greatly desired. He confided to me his own 
idea, that most of the enjoyments in the world were 
defiling to the soul of man, and purposely allowed to 
be so by the gods, in order to make the absolute purity 
and perfection of its ultimate condition all the more 
marvellous by reason of its present vileness ; and that 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY. 


23 


that ultimate condition of purity was entirely depen- 
dent upon man’s efforts and pains during his time of 
probation in the different scenes in which he might be 
placed in the course of all the transmigrations of the 
soul. Although I did not always agree with Shiv J1 
in the various ideas which he brought forward as he 
learnt them from different philosophers at different 
times, I nevertheless carefully observed all religious 
duties even to his satisfaction, and he not infrequently 
applauded me as one who spared no pains to bring 
himself to the perfection demanded of mortals who 
would ever be absorbed into the very essence of 
Brahm. But for me there was not any satisfaction. 
Perhaps you will wonder why I had such a thirst 
in my soul. At first it was only a desire for know- 
ledge of any kind, but soon it grew into a great 
longing to know something of the Mighty Creator, 
and to escape the curse of evil, which (though I 
did not all at once understand this) is the cause of 
all the misery in the world. 

In my many reflections about the Biver and the 
Golden Temple, the deities, the offerings, the various 
forms of puja, and the teachings of the Brahmans, I 
was ever conscious of this great, unsatisfied craving, 
and ever aware, too, of the retention in my memory of 
one dark, terrible day in the little history of my life, 
which could not fail to make a fearful background to 
all my imaginings and questions — I mean the day 


24 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


when I heard for the first and last time the wail of my 
infant sister. 

A time came when still further my wondering and 
troubled heart was to be puzzled. The cholera visited 
our city with unusual severity. At first there were 
only a few cases of death from this dreaded foe, and 
by the thoughtful and experienced they were under- 
stood as are the first drops and mutterings of a 
thunderstorm. But many said it would be no worse 
than in other years, that always we must have some 
deaths in so large and populous a city from this terrible 
disease, and that this season would prove no exception 
to the rule. But the calamity increased, and people 
ceased to say it was nothing. Shops were closed and 
hdzdrs became more quiet, and devout citizens were 
more diligent in their pujas and their offerings ; while 
homes were being made more and more desolate, and 
the hot, stifling, sickening air seemed full of sounds of 
death, as every day some two hundred of the bodies of 
our fellow-beings were carried forth for burial or for 
burning. 

My father and my young child-wife were soon 
reckoned among the dead, and then came the darkest 
hour in all my history. How can I even think of it 
without opening afresh the wounds in my heart, which 
have never really healed? My mother, still my best- 
beloved companion — she who, in her idolising affection 
for me, would do or bear anything for my sake; she 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY. 


25 


who, in all our two young lives since my birth, had 
found in loving and tending and playing with her 
first-born son her sweetest solace and joy — she was 
brought in the sad procession when my father’s body 
was carried forth for burning ; and there, when all 
the dread arrangements had been duly made, and my 
uncle, nearest relative of the dead, was standing ready 
to perform the terrible deeds required of him, she — 
still young, and to my loving eyes how beautiful ! — 
was bound upon that funeral pyre, and without a word 
or struggle that I knew of, gave up, in calm obedience 
to an ancient custom, her life in the unspeakable agony 
of that blazing bed of death. 

Ask not into whose fearfully trembling and almost 
unconscious hands they thrust at least one torch to 
light that fire. Rather wonder that I live to bear this 
weight of years, and with that scene of anguish all fresh 
before me still to tell the tale as if it were a thing of 
yesterday. 

I fled the spot ; and in all the trouble and misery 
which were upon our city, none of my family cared, I 
suppose, to inquire for me. Afterwards I learned that 
Shiv Ji and my uncles thought, when two or three days 
had passed without my coming home, that I had died 
suddenly, like hundreds more, all untended and alone, 
by some wayside or in some jungle, having fled the 
city with disease and death upon me. So they never 
thought of following or searching ; and I, full of bitter 


25 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


anguish and sorrow, scarce knowing what I did or 
whither my footsteps turned, left my childhood’s home 
for ever. 

In the madness of despair I did it, and not then 
with any hope in my stricken heart of finding the 
satisfaction and rest for which I had so long yearned 
in vain. 

You ask me how I lived. I saw that I could not 
earn my bread unless I did so by means of the only 
trade of which I was master, and that this was not 
possible while I held to my desire to increase my 
little store of knowledge. I hastily. took a resolution, 
and adopted the dress of a faqir, and then, with my 
wallet and staff, set forth on the pilgrimage which is 
not yet ended. 

Forty-five long years have passed away since I left 
the plague-stricken city which had been my home, but 
I have not yet found that in search of which I started. 
The Great Unknown, the Almighty Creator of our 
spirits, alone sees whether the prize of satisfaction is 
ever to be mine. 

I was fifteen years of age, and at first I bore well the 
hardships of my new life. I walked from city to city, 
thinking lightly of heat and cold, of hunger and fatigue, 
for my spirit was athirst, and its cravings were more 
painful than any which can be felt by the body. I 
visited every pipal and every banyan tree which had 
become famous as the special resort of holy men, and 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY. 


27 


beneath whose chosen shade miracles of healing and 
other wonders had been wrought. 

Devoutly I worshipped and waited under those sacred 
branches, and longed for sign of help and comfort from 
the deities known to be pleased to dwell in such leafy 
temples. 

I journeyed with oft- weary yet ever- willing feet to 
Calcutta, that I might there take part in all the cere- 
monies and join in the grand procession with Jaggar- 
ndth’s car ; and again these same tired limbs bore me 
to Cashmlr, and thence to the source of the wonderful 
river Chend^h, where, with strong and earnest hope, I 
worshipped and admired ; and from that favoured and 
blessed spot I pursued my way again until I reached 
on another and distant part of these glorious moun- 
tains, Dharmsala and Juwalamukhi, and witnessed the 
burning mountain,, and once more adored and longed 
for the knowledge of the Great Spirit. But fire no 
more revealed Him to me than the holy welling-up 
spring of water had done, and anon I turned, as so 
often before, to Ma Ganga, and visited anew every 
sacred spot on her hanks. 

During all these pilgrimages I spent many days and 
nights in sitting at the feet of holy faqirs, listening to 
and learning from them how they had given up the 
world and gone to live alone in poverty and suffering 
in order that they might mortify the flesh and hold 
communion with the Great Spirit, and be purified and 


28 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


refined, and finally absorbed into His very essence. I 
worshipped these men. I knew they were sincere and 
pure, and it was my dire misfortune, or rather, perhaps, 
my miserable fault — who knows ? — that I could never 
find in all their teaching anything that could satisfy 
my soul. It would often happen that just at sunset I 
reached the outskirts of some sacred city near to which 
I knew there lived, by a holy well and under some 
famous plpahs shade, a faqir of great repute for his 
sanctity, and I would, with reverent posture, approach 
his little hut, and gazing on him with becoming 
humility and admiration, say, ‘‘ Master, behold an un- 
worthy servant ! ” Then he would ask me concern- 
ing my condition and circumstances, my name and 
age, my desires and intentions, and encourage me 
to talk with him of all the great longings of my 
soul; and when aware that he had crouching before 
him a humble but earnest searcher for peace and 
satisfaction, he would become absorbed in thought, 
so that it was easily seen that he was holding com- 
munion with the Great Spirit. I would wait then 
in awe-struck silence until he should again begin to 
speak, sometimes in low, quiet tones, as if rather to 
himself than to any other, and sometimes in rapturous 
ecstasies, with many exclamations of wonder and many 
profound prostrations of his whole body on the earth ; 
and anon in earnest, solemn words he would exhort 
me to seek to hold communion with the All-Pure, 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY, 


29 


to be absolutely holy in word and deed and thought, 
to have no earthly desires, to neglect and afflict my 
body, to make long pilgrimages, to strive after the 
knowledge of good, and to live in hope that at 
some time or other I should be absorbed into the 
very essence of Brahm. 

And I would stay with him for two or three 
days, listening to his wisdom and striving to under- 
stand, and then I would go forth once more upon 
my lonely pilgrimage to try perfectly to obey the 
precepts of such a master, but always to find myself 
only plunged into deeper despair and more intense 
dissatisfaction. 

In the course of my wanderings I often visited 
Benares ; indeed, my religious duties and convictions 
made this necessary, and I never failed to go to my 
old home to seek interviews with those of my re- 
latives who were living still. But to none of them 
did my heart truly turn save to my brother-in-law. 
Shiv Ji, who was always the one to give me a wel- 
come, and to encourage me in the pursuit of holiness 
and truth. 

We were full-grown men, and he was thriving in 
worldly matters, having become a wood-merchant ^ and 
abandoned the far less lucrative trade of his father, 
when I arrived one evening at his house, as I had 


^ In large cities, where there are many Hindus, the wood-trade is a good 
one, on account of the consumption of wood at tlie burning ghdts. 


30 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 

often done before, and received, after my long, weary 
tramp from my last halting-place, his usual kind wel- 
come. 

It was an agreement between us that I should 
always act in his house just as any other faqir would 
do, and accepting from his hands any alms or food 
he might give, should carefully avoid any recogni- 
tion of the rights which would have been mine as 
brother in his household had I not chosen the life 
of a religious devotee. Thus I always remained in 
the outside court, and lay at night on the floor of 
a tiny room there which just admitted me, and in 
which I could suitably carry on all my religious 
exercises. Shiv Ji usually came and sat in this out- 
side court with me for long and serious conversation, 
for he took a very true interest in the great object 
of my life, and would always do everything he could 
to encourage and help me. 

On the particular evening of which I am speaking 
I could not help noticing something strange in my 
brother-in-law’s manner. 

He was grave and quiet, scarcely replying to any 
question, and apparently entirely taken up with some 
subject of thought of a most serious nature. At length 
he suddenly asked, ‘‘Well, brother, is your soul’s 
thirst quenched?” I was obliged to tell him, in 
answer, that, alas ! thus far my wanderings and search- 
ings had been in vain, and that I still craved the know- 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY, 


31 


ledge of the way to perfect purity and absorption into 
the very essence of Brahm. 

After a long thoughtful pause Shiv Ji said, “Brother, 
the perplexities and doubts of these days are much 
increased by the establishment in our midst of a new 
sort of religion, whose teachers have come from a far- 
distant land, claiming to be the fortunate possessors of 
a secret which shall supersede all previously known 
methods of finding God and happiness, and shall 
reveal Him not alone to men of one class or race 
or country, but to every one in the whole world 
who may be found willing to adopt their religious 
customs. Do you think there can be any truth in 
such an idea ? 

This new religion was not altogether unheard of by 
me, as it had been discussed among our teachers many 
years before ; but since its advocates had been more 
diligent in pushing forward its supposed claims, and 
in urging persons of other religions to give heed to 
them, it had appeared in some of our cities almost as 
a new thing. 

Yes ; I understood what he meant. He was cer- 
tainly speaking of the religion of the English. 

I was surprised that he, a good, thoughtful, and 
devout Hindu, should even speah of such a strange and 
unreasonable mode of religious thought as that brought 
before us by the foreigners, and I answered him some- 
what angrily, that I hoped he was not going to be 


32 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


such a fool as to lend his ear to the absurd tales of 
Kardms.^ 

He replied by merely asking, “ Brother, where is its 
absurdity ? Can you prove it 1 ” 

I was more astonished now, and rather ironically 
inquired, “ Oh, then you mean to turn Karani your- 
self? Do you know of any one thing in the book 
of the foreigners which would not be deserving 
of the condemnation of our priests, or which could 
possibly find one moment’s favour with our devoted 
and holy faqirsf — all honour to their sanctity and 
learning.” 

He then showed me a small book, and said, “ This is 
a portion of the book of the English. I am not show- 
ing it to you because I believe it or am at all convinced 
about any statements contained in it, but only because 
you are devoted to a life of holiness and self-abasement 
in the grand hope of finding God, and surely your 
wisdom and religious character entitle you to judge of 
such books as this ? Bead this one passage,” and he 
pointed. The little book was in Hindi, and I had 
learned to read that language during my visits to 
different holy and learned men ; so I now read easily 
as follows : — 

“Jesus said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of 
God, and who it is that saith to thee. Give Me to drink, 
thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have 

^ A derisive name for Christians. 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY, 


33 


given thee living water. The woman saith unto Him, 
Sir, Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is 
deep : from whence then hast Thou that living water ? 
Art Thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us 
the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, 
and his cattle? Jesus answered and said unto her. 
Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again : 
but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give 
him shall never thirst ; but the water that I shall give 
him shall be in him a well of water springing up into 
everlasting life.” 

I was not at all pleased with the apparent satisfac- 
tion with which Shiv Ji heard me read these words, 
though they had even to me a certain charm which 
made me almost long to read them again. I laid 
down the book, and began to mock my brother, and 
deride his weakness in that so readily he had listened 
to the nonsense called by foreigners truth ! 

He only replied, “ Be not so angry, my brother. I 
have only shown you, in your inquiries after know- 
ledge, what some teachers say is the right way. I am 
no teacher, nor can I decide questions only rightly 
discussed by priests and devotees.” 

He went to his evening meal, and the usual alms 
having been dispensed to me, I gathered up my wallet 
and staff, and then, just at the last moment, decided 
on taking also the little book, in order that I might 
have the opportunity to answer its arguments and ex- 

c 


34 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 

pose the mistakes of its teaching ; and forth I went 
again upon my weary journey. 

Twenty years have passed since that day ; but as yet 
I have not fully satisfied myself as to the answers I 
shall frame to the words of that book, and sometimes I 
thing it may be better if I leave the important task to 
a wiser and holier man. 

As for my brother-in-law, I much fear that he must 
have left his own and his forefathers’ holy religion, 
and joined himself to that which seems to have gained 
such a strange hold on the minds of our people, the 
so-called “religion” of the English; for he left our 
ancient city soon after the interview which I have 
recorded, and beyond unsatisfactory rumours of his 
having changed his dress and some of his customs, I 
could never hear anything about him. 

Oh that even yet I may again meet the friend of 
my childhood, the brother of my maturer years ! May 
the All-wise One answer this yearning prayer ! And 
now I am returning from what I know must prove my 
last visits to sacred spots on these mountains and 
among these forest-trees ; I must travel by such short 
stages as best may suit the weary limbs of the tired 
old man. 

I am receiving from the faithful and charitable much 
blessed' help by the way (God bless them !), and I am 
cherishing the hope in my heart that I may once more 
worship near the sacred tanks and under the pipal- 


THE OLD MAN'S STORY. 


35 


trees of Lahore and Amritsar before my long, long 
journey ends for ever in this world and I pass the 
gate at the entrance of that other journey, so utterly 
unknown to us mortals, the afflictions and burdens of 
which, as well as its alleviations and mitigations of 
wrath, and its thousands of years of length, will all be 
determined by the degree of acceptance with the Great 
Spirit of all the toils, sorrows, privations, and devotions 
of these sixty years. 

Farewell, my brothers. Saldm! saldm! Let us 
thank Him that in all His rewards and punishments 
He is just. 

The old man had risen, and as he spoke the name of 
the Great Spirit, the All- Just, he reverently bowed his 
head, and with his fine thoughtful old face betoken- 
ing by every pain-drawn line on its rugged surface 
the truth of his sad tale, he gathered up his wallet 
and staff and passed away from the group of listeners, 
to pursue his weary journey down the winding hill- 
side road ; not, however, without first stooping for 
one more draught of that pure, sparkling, refreshing 
water. 

As he felt its thirst-quenching power, did it speak 
no word to him, nor bring to his restless, thirsty soul 
the solemn thought that even yet, within the folds of 
his faqir's cloth, there lay a little book which had been 


36 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


telling him unheeded through twenty years of struggle 
and of toil — 

‘‘ Whosoever drinketh of the water that i shall 

GIVE HIM shall NEVER THIRST ; BUT THE WATER THAT I 
SHALL GIVE HIM SHALL BE IN HIM A WELL OF WATER 
SPRINGING UP INTO EVERLASTING LIFE.” 



CHAPTEE III. 


THE SCHOOLMASTER’S DILEMMA. 


Shall one who names 

The Name of Christ take part with enemies 
Of that dear Name ! fear to proclaim His love ! 
Forbear to tell it out among the heathen 
That the Lord is King ! Alas ! ’tis even so. 

Is not the reason plain ? That now no more 
Nor Shiv, nor Kdli, nor the great Ganesh 
Doth claim his homage or command his powers, 
But in the place of all there reigns supreme 
The idol Self! 


MohindrAnAth Chakkarbatty was strolling leisurely 
along the narrow hdzdr of a not very important country 
town in the Panjab. He was returning home from his 
daily toil of educating the youth of Akbarpur, and he 
looked by no means sorry to leave for a few hours the 
comparatively imposing building which bore the words 
over its doorway, in letters moulded in pacca plaster — 
“Government College, 1878.’’ He was tired. Who 
wouldn^t be tired after such a day’s work and in such 
a climate ! 

True, the panhah, which had been an actual neces- 
sity of life that day to the exhausted and weary 
native master and scholars packed in that schoolroom, 
had been pulled unceasingly after a fashion, but never- 


38 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


theless it had been a struggle, and a hard one, to get 
through the day. Possibly critics who judge of the 
plains of India and the circumstances of those whose 
work happens to be there all the year round, by the 
pleasant coolness and fresh and fruitful appearance of 
Nature in the time of their delightful winter visit to 
hospitable friends, would exclaim, “What! ^jpankah! 
Surely such an extravagant luxury cannot be re- 
quired, and by natives, too ! ” But the day on which 
we make the acquaintance of Babu Mohindrdnd,th 
Chakkarbatty is a day when such visitors are con- 
spicuous by their absence, having somehow or another 
found out, that although in November and December 
it is difficult to imagine why the Panjab climate is 
considered so trying, still it is decidedly wise not to 
make the experiment of waiting to see what June 
and July may be like, but to leave room at such 
times for “those who like the warmth.”^ 

Yes, it was a hot day, and every one knew it, and 
had known it for a good many hours ; yet still each 
pedestrian in those stifling, airless hdzdrs seemed to 
feel it necessary to tell every one he met that it was 
a season of much heat, and that he had almost 
died of it last night, and had never known such 
affliction on account of heat since he had lived in 
Akbarpur. 

* It would be well if it could be an established rule that no visitor to the 
Panjdb should be qualified to give an opinion of its climate until he had 
remained on its plains for twelve months consecutively. 


THE SCHOOLMASTER'S DILEMMA. 


39 


Mohindrandth Chakkarbatty was not a native of 
Akbarpur, but be bad many acquaintances there. As 
Government schoolmaster he was in a position which 
entitled him to respect, and many were the saldms 
made to him by his fellow- townsfolk as he threaded 
his way along the crowded hdzdr, for he had always 
been careful to do nothing to turn away from himself 
and his family that regard which might, unrealised, as 
in the case of many others, have been his rightful due. 
But his circle of special friends was a small one, and 
he was perfectly satisfied to have the respect of the 
multitude and the love of the few, there being many 
things in his character and tastes which made him 
inclined to keep somewhat aloof from ordinary com- 
pany in a Panjabi country town, and to maintain as 
much as possible what he felt to be the dignity of a 
Bengali Bdhu. He was, therefore, by no means un- 
like hundreds of his fellow-men in every part of the 
world whose mental vision is impaired. 

In the case of Mohindranath there was yet another 
resemblance to crowds of well-meaning people else- 
where ; he was perfectly certain the reason that his 
circle of close friends was small, and that, although his 
fair dealing and scholastic powers won respect, he 
was never overwhelmed with expressions or tokens of 
love, was the fact of his being a Christian. Now, this 
he felt was in no way his fault, and he sometimes 
even ventured to assure his few chosen friends that 


40 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


he was not animated by those proselytising notions 
which had already made some Government schools 
in danger of being unpopular, owing to the foolish 
persistence of Christian masters in propagating new 
doctrines, and that they might always feel, in trusting 
their boys to his care and tuition, that the sacred- 
ness and authority of the ancient religions of the 
people should be maintained, and every boy left to 
worship God in the way he pleased, undisturbed by 
any introduction of new creeds. 

Mohindr^ndth had one good and kind friend who 
had been to him from early boyhood a very brother, 
in school-days seeking to guide him aright, and in 
manhood fearlessly showing him his errors and 
dangers, while striving earnestly to lead him to 
the one and only safe position for the Christian — 
“OTi the Lord's side!' For Philip Muhkam Din had 
chosen the better part, and was known as one who, 
through evil report and good report, counted it his 
greatest happiness and highest honour to be enabled to 
be loyal to his Heavenly Master, and it was ever with 
a sense of deep pain that he heard that Blessed Name 
by which he was known disgraced by being called 
the cause of the contempt and hatred which were 
really the rightful due of the cowardice and worldli- 
ness of many who took shelter under the notion 
that they were hated for their Christianity. 

Philip Muhkam Din was also a Government school- 


THE SCHOOLMASTER'S DILEMMA, 


41 


master, and he had more than once been stationed in 
a town in which Mohindrd;nath had been for a time on 
duty, such constant changes being common in Govern- 
ment service of this kind. The friends met but seldom, 
for duties were heavy, and leave of absence for three 
or four days at a time not easy to obtain, while the 
frequent public holidays on the occasion of religious 
feasts, melas, &c., afforded too short a time for a jour- 
ney of many hours to visit a distant station. But the 
friends did meet sometimes, and for the last eighteen 
years a new tie had bound them more closely, for 
Philip Muhkam Din’s sister, on leaving the large 
Mission boarding-school where she had been educated, 
became the wife of Mohindrd-nath Chakkarbatty. We 
shall meet her again, and will find that, with her 
heart truly given to God, and her place of loving con- 
secration at the Master’s feet never deserted for any 
worldly gain or pleasure, she is able to maintain in her 
difficult position a character and an infiuence which 
speak well for the school from which she comes and 
rejoice the heart of her like-minded brother. 

On the sultry evening in June on which we were 
introduced to MohindrJnd,th Chakkarbatty, he was 
apparently in a very thoughtful and disturbed state 
of mind ; he looked worried and annoyed, and some- 
thing more than fatigue and the heat of the season 
seemed to make him tread so wearily towards his 
home. He lived in a neat little house near the Mis- 


42 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


sion Church in Akbarpur, and had almost reached his 
destination, when he suddenly turned back, and hastily 
traversing again one or two hdzdrs, made his way up a 
narrow galli leading out of the chief street of the town. 
“It will be as well,” he said to himself, “just to let 
them see that I am not to blame ; but it is certainly 
most annoying that this affair should have happened, 
and it is so likely to bring discredit on the Mission^ 
Ah ! if Mohindrdnath would only have listened to 
the voice within, the faithful monitor not always alto- 
gether silent about his faults, he would have heard 
a word about a negative Christianity and a non- 
aggressive Christian bringing discredit on the Master. 

But he hurried on and heeded not the whisper of 
conscience. His friend, Prem Chand, the goldsmith, 
towards whose house he was hastening, had not yet 
returned from his shop, and a lad in the galli who 
gave Mohindr^^nath this information undertook to go 
and call him. 

The schoolmaster walked on and sat down on a 
chdrpaie in the entrance of the house, and just at 
the top of a few steps leading up from the galli to 
the house. 

Two men and a youth, already sitting on that and 
another chdrpaie, gave him rather surly saldms, and 
one of them not very willingly made room for him to 
sit down. 

Saldm ji,'' said the schoolmaster to Eattan Chand, 


THE SCHOOLMASTER'S DILEMMA, 


43 


the goldsmith’s brother; ‘‘how is Nihal Chand’s 
father ? ” (meaning the goldsmith). 

Rattan Chand replied that his brother was just 
coming home, and Mohindranath could see for him- 
self that the life and joy of his life were departed, 
his strength and happiness gone for ever, and his 
heart broken. 

Mohindranath began to say, in a feeble, hesitat- 
ing way, “But surely there is hope that Muhkam 
Chand ” 

“ Name him not ! ” almost fiercely cried the uncle of 
the boy on whose behalf a whole family of Hindus 
were mourning more than they would if he had been 
dead, a Christian schoolmaster was fretting and 
trembling for his own honour, and the Lord’s words 
were being fulfilled in the glorious unseen world, 
“There is joy in the presence of the angels of God 
over one sinner that repenteth.” Yes, Muhkam 
Chand had within the last twenty-four hours re- 
nounced the errors and superstitions of his own 
false religion, and joined himself unto the people of 
the God of Abraham. 

“ All very well,” thought Mohindranath when he 
heard of it. “I am, of course, thankful that people 
should become Christians — I hope many may; but it 
is a misfortune that this should have happened just 
as it has. If the lad would only have been cautious, 
and remained a secret believer until he could come 


44 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 


out without trouble and fuss, how very much better it 
would have been ! I dare say some impulsive Christian 
has been teaching him that he must come boldly for- 
ward and confess all he feels at once. Such a pity ! 
There is nothing gained by it, and it only provokes 
opposition and makes it so difficult to keep open 
schools. It is the same sort of uncalled-for boldness 
which has made so many persecutions and afflictions 
come upon Christians in other countries. Why, if 
every one in England in the reign of their famously 
wicked Queen Mary had thought as I do ’’ 

An interruption brought the schoolmaster’s soliloquy 
to an abrupt end, but we can easily guess that the 
conclusion might have been, ‘‘ Smithfield fires would 
not have been a blot on the page of English history.” 

The goldsmith came home at length, and Mohin- 
drandth advanced with a sympathetic smile to meet 
him ; but Prem Chand, seating himself by his brothers, 
broke out into a passion of grief, and reproached 
the schoolmaster as being an unworthy and deceitful 
friend. Did he not know that no worse disaster than 
this under which they were now groaning could pos- 
sibly fall upon a Hindu family of such strict religious 
principles as theirs? Were they not for ever disgraced 
and in danger of losing caste, and had they not lost 
one of the most hopeful and affectionate of sons? 
Might not, for all they knew, the same evil seeds 
have been sown in the hearts of other Hindu lads. 


THE SCHOOLMASTERS DILEMMA. 


45 


and would it not, probably, soon become a matter of 
common observation that Brahman boys who attended 
that school were no longer so devout in their observ- 
ance oipuja and other religious customs? 

But the schoolmaster hastened to assure his friends 
that he felt very much sympathy for them in their 
trouble, and that, although he certainly, as a Christian, 
held the Bible to be true, yet still he hoped he was 
too honourable to use any special effort to lead his 
scholars to read it ; and, besides, did they not know that 
in Government schools Bible-teaching and proselytis- 
ing were forbidden by a most wise law ? 

Having to some extent made peace with his friends, 
Mohindrd-n^th went off home, feeling a little more at 
ease as to any possible danger to himself from this 
conversion of young Muhkam Chand ; and he even 
persuaded himself that he had done Christianity in 
general, and the Mission, in which he had several 
friends, in particular, a very good turn ‘‘by letting 
these respectable Hindus see that it is not the object 
of Christians to upset their homes and take away 
their sons.” 

He soon reached home, and pushed open the door 
in the wall surrounding his neatly paved and tidily 
kept court, where his two young daughters were busily 
employed in the little cook-house on one side pre- 
paring some tasty Bengali dish for their father’s even- 
ing meal. They were assisted by a woman-servant. 


46 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


who, having just been out on an errand to the hdzdr, 
had hastened back with the news that the Babu was 
coming. The girls greeted him affectionately, and 
told him they would soon bring him a nice supper. 
It was one of their wise mother’s rules to bring up 
her girls to love work and never to know the silly 
pride which prevents so many modern girls (even 
among Christians in India, too !) from being any com- 
fort and help to their own parents in their own homes, 
and consequently makes it exceedingly difficult for 
the Christian man of moderate means to marry any 
educated girl. These two were accustomed, whenever 
at home from school, to think it a pleasure and an 
honour to be allowed to cook for father and help 
mother ; and they found, as many other sensible girls 
have done, that a good education need not be in- 
compatible with the accomplishments essential in the 
good housewife. The Babu returned their greet- 
ing and hurried into the house. What was it which 
was so attracting him there ? Listen ! A child’s 
fresh young voice trilling out in clear, full notes the 
words — 

“ I’ve found a Friend ; oh, such a Friend ! 

He loved me ere I knew Him ; 

He drew me with the cords of love. 

And thus He bound me to Him. 

And round my heart still closely twine 
Those ties which nought can sever ; 

For I am His, and He is mine. 

For ever and for ever ! ” 










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“ They sat together on a low chdrpaie for their usual evening enjoyment 
of each other.’’— Paf/e 47. 




THE SCHOOLMASTER’S DILEMMA. 


47 


On the approach of the Babu the child ceased 
singing, and began to listen in that peculiar manner 
which always at once acquaints the bystander with 
the fact that this is a case in which ears have to do 
the work of eyes as well as their own. The dear 
child was blind. He was a little, delicate-looking 
lad of about ten years of age, and he had been blind 
from his birth, and very weakly all his life. With a 
cry of joy and a spring towards his father which was 
so utterly devoid of the fear of taking a wrong direc- 
tion or meeting with an accident that it seemed for the 
moment as if the child could not be blind, he was 
giving the schoolmaster the usual evening welcome 
home. 

“And what has this little boy been doing all 
day?” asked Mohindranath. 

This was the regularly repeated question, and the 
Bdbu always felt rested and happy as he listened to 
the history of the day’s little doings and amuse- 
ments which it elicited. He was tenderly fond of 
this blind child, his only son ; and nothing was too 
trifling or childish to appear to him worthy of praise 
if only his dear boy said or did it. This evening 
the little face looked gravely happy, and there was 
not much to say about play ; but with an old- 
fashioned, earnest look the boy nestled closer to his 
father as they sat together on a low chdrpaie for 
their usual evening enjoyment of each other, and 


48 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


the little childish voice was very sweet and calm as 
the words came, “ Father, to-day I have been hear- 
ing and thinking a great deal about the boy who 
came here with the old faqir — the boy who was so 
clever at school, and loved learning so very much 
he has sometimes been known to say that everything 
he had learnt had seemed like a lota full of fresh 
water from a mountain stream, it made him long 
to get some more. And now, dear father, he has 
learnt the best thing of all ; he has learnt about 
Jesus ; he has become a Christian. Only he isn’t 
baptized yet, but he will be soon.” 

Little David spoke earnestly, and did not notice 
his father’s silence as he prattled on. Well was it 
that he could not see at that moment his father’s 
annoyed expression of countenance as he enlarged 
on the happiness of the “new Christian boy,” and 
told how he was at a neighbour’s house, and he 
(David) had been to see him to-day when out in 
the early morning for a walk with the servant-boy 
who took care of him. David came to a pause at 
last, after exclaiming, “And how delightful for a boy 
of father’s school to become a Christian ! ” 

“And have you forgotten, my little David, that it 
will be a very bad thing for father, because now all 
the people will be afraid to send their boys to the 
Government school, as they will certainly think that 
I converted him to Christianity ? ” 


THE SCHOOLMASTER'S DILEMMA. 


49 


“ Oh no, father ! ” exclaimed the eager child ; 
‘‘ they won’t, I promise you they won’t ! Muhkam 
Chand began to love Jesus only through reading the 
Gospel of St. Luke, so you see no one will blame 
you.” 

“Yes, yes,” said the schoolmaster, “I know that, 
child ; but don’t you see how bad a name it will be 
for me, so that respectable Hindu friends will really 
scarcely trust me again with their sons, lest they 
should be taught to be Christians. And you would 
not like to hear of your father’s bad name, would 
you, my little David ? ” 

A sad, grave look came over the face of the blind 
child as he slowly answered, “I like people to praise 
you, dear father, but I am only wondering what our 
Father in heaven will say.” 

The Bdbu was glad indeed of the interruption 
caused by preparations for the evening meal, and 
hoped that for to-night at least the topic of the 
conversion of the boy in the Government school 
would be left alone. But yet once more before he lay 
down to rest that night the erring servant was spoken 
to by the Master; for when the family had been for 
a little time sitting together under a jpanhah put 
up expressly for these hot evenings in the open 
air, and when the meal was ended, little David 
suddenly broke the silence by speaking to his mother 
— a quiet, gentle woman, with a happy face which 


50 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


told of inward peace, and which seemed to show the 
secret of the cheerful industry of those young girls 
and the simple trust of the blind child, upon whom a 
mother’s influence had been exerted “ all for Christ.” 

“Mother,” asked little David, with a wistful, ear- 
nest look, “ now that boy will be a Christian, why 
should it be a bad name for father?” 

Mohindrd-n^th’s wife often found herself placed in 
difficulty like this from the simple impossibility of 
telling the truth without blaming her husband, to 
whom her high Christian principle made her ever 
loyal, and whose authority as a father she ever strove 
to uphold. Often before had she felt sure that 
Mohindrdndth was taking the wrong side, or at 
least shrinking in a cowardly way from taking the 
right one, when the vexed question came before him 
of whether or not Christians in India ought to try 
to persuade the heathen to believe and turn to the 
Lord. Without appearing to her children to con- 
tradict their father, she now only explained, “I do 
not think any really good people will give the school 
or the schoolmaster a bad name from which a boy 
becomes a Christian ; and if we really love Christ 
ourselves, it seems impossible to me not to bring 
others to Him. It is nothing to us what people 
will say, and we need not trouble about the bad 
name ; we mnst bring other people to know the 
happiness of being Christians ; it is the natural result 


THE SCHOOLMASTER'S DILEMMA 


51 


of being Christians ourselves. Our Blessed Lord 
said — 

“ ‘ He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture 

HATH SAID, OUT OF HIS BELLY SHALL FLOW RIVERS 
OF LIVING water/'' 





CHAPTER IV. 


THE GOLDSMITH^S SON. 

Sown in weakness 

On a long weary day, when oft the heart — 

Supported though it be by faith, made strong 
By prayer — sinks sadly down and almost feels 
Love’s labour lost, and all that precious seed 
Gone to the winds, consumed by heat and drought. 

Hopelessly lost, to yield no glorious fruit 

At the great Harvest-Day ! Nay, labourer, pause 

Yet once again, and pray, “ Lord of the field. 

Bless this, and this, and this, in weakness sown. 

For the Great Intercessor’s sake alone. Amen.” 

If He but bless, each grain will erewhile yield 
A harvest for His praise ! Be of good cheer ; 

Thou yet shalt see the seed now sown in weakness 
Raised in power. 

Muhkam Chand, concerning whose conversion to 
the Christian faith our friend Mohindrandth, the 
schoolmaster, was so anxious and alarmed lest a bad 
name should be attached to the Government school 
in consequence of it, had been the dearly-loved and 
much-indulged younger son in the goldsmith’s family, 
and had lived the usual not very eventful life of 
such Hindu lads in quiet country towns 'in the 
Panjdb. In early childhood he lived chiefly in the 
women’s rooms, to be played with, petted and spoilt 

52 


THE GOLDSMITH'S SON. 


53 

as much as possible, given everything he cried for, 
and allowed to make every one his slave. 

There is really no nursery-life for the children of 
India; indeed, it may almost be said there is no 
childhood there. 

Often has the heart of the lady missionary ached 
over these babes, toddling along in the narrow gallisy 
with their old-men faces showing all too plainly that 
the knowledge of evil, the practice of cunning, and 
the habit of deliberate lying have all too rapidly 
carried these still mere infants over the period 
known to us as “childhood,” and launched them on 
to the sea of human life at the deep-water and 
dangerous-rock point which is not reached by the 
well-guarded youth of Christian lands until an age 
at which his young brother of India has become old 
in iniquity. 

Prem Chand, the goldsmith, was very proud of his 
two fine sons. Boys are always much coveted in 
Indian families, and are as joyously welcomed as girls 
are unfavourably regarded. Prem Chand had three 
daughters before any son came to make up for such 
a series of disappointments, and as time after time 
the eager expectation of himself and his brothers 
was only excited to be dashed to the ground, he 
began to feel convinced that it was not the will 
of the gods for him to be the possessor of that 
great and inestimable blessing, a son of his own. 


54 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


Of course, he really considered himself childless,^ for 
it is customary, when answering the question as 
to the number of any womans children, to count 
up only the boys ; and it is only when much pressed 
that they will acknowledge, with manifest reluctance, 
“Oh yes, there were two or three girls, to be sure, 
but we did not know you were asking about them!' 

To Prem Chand's wife the sorrow was perhaps, 
in some ways, greater than to himself ; for, in ad- 
dition to the trial of having no son, she had to 
endure the ever-increasing dread, the haunting fear, 
that sooner or later there would be a second wife 
in the house, and she herself, with her despised 
daughters, would have to submit to the life-long 
sorrow of being set aside for one towards whom 
the gods might perchance be more favourable. Oh 
miserable folly, superstition, and sin, when shall the 
blessed Gospel shine into these dark places of the 
earth, these travesties of homes ? How long it seems 
ere any appreciable difference is made in these ab- 
surd and embittering and peace-destroying customs ! 
But, thank God ! the light is breaking in, and we 
look for a time, not far distant, when the right- 
minded and thoughtful Hindustani or Panjabi shall 
revert in thought from the happy domestic scenes 
of a brighter and purer era and feel amazement at 

^ The Panjdbi word for son is putha, from the Sanscrit root puth — pre- 
venting from being childless. 


THE GOLDSMITH'S SON. 


55 


the slavery to customs under which his forefathers 
dwelt. When once the slave-chain is broken the 
freedom will be splendid, if only it be “the liberty 
wherewith Christ hath made us free.” Any scheme 
for social reform which is not based on Gospel 
principles will fail. In the vast country, or rather 
collection of countries which we call India, system 
after system of philosophy has had its rise and fall, 
and we may say that nearly everything which has 
been tried in the solution of the mighty problems, 
social and otherwise, of these millions of people 
has been found perfectly valueless, with the single 
exception of the Gospel of the grace of God. Wher- 
ever that has been tried, it has proved simply omni- 
potent. Alas that it has been tried so little ! But 
thank God for its onward progress ! Glory to His 
Name that we can tell of it as “ conquering and 
to conquer ” ! 

From our digression we return to the as good as 
childless home of Prem Chand, the goldsmith. 

At length the brothers and friends who grieved 
with him in his disappointments are gratified, after 
a night of anxiety and alternate hope and fear, by 
the never-to-be-forgotten news, carried very eagerly 
and with shrill voices by various members of the 
feminine crowd in one of the inner rooms — “Prem 
Chand ! Prem Chand ! see thy blessing and joy this 
day granted by the Great Creator ! Thou art a father ; 


56 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


thy first-born son is come ; ” while amid the many 
expressions of congratulation heard on all sides there 
might be caught the sound from not a few of the 
more devout of the oft-repeated “ Sir -i- Ram, Sir-i- 
Rdmy All the usual ceremonies were gone through, 
and every rite duly performed on its prescribed day 
in the little hero’s life. First of all came the 
Brahmans and wrote his janam patri, a document 
recording the day and hour of birth, and profess- 
ing to foretell certain great events in the boy’s life. 
If any heavy trouble is predicted, the parents are 
directed to do puja to some god with a view to 
averting wrath, and a chain (for which, of course, 
the Brahmans have to be paid) is placed on the 
child’s neck as a charm against such trouble, and 
called Chandar mdli, or Suraj mdli, or Sanichar 
mdli, according to the particular deity whose wrath 
has to be averted. 

On the fifth day after the birth the mother bathed, 
and rice was cooked and eaten by all the family 
and relations. On that night she was so fortunate 
as to see the stars, after which she was allowed 
to sleep on a chdrpaie instead of on the ground, 
as she had done up to that time. On the thir- 
teenth day the little boy wore a hurtd for the first 
time in his life, and in the evening his mother 
carried him to a well and did puja to it, and pre- 
sented her little son as an offering to the well. 


THE GOLDSMITH^S SON. 


S7 


And there were many more customs all duly ob- 
served in the early life of this Hindu child, most 
of them exceedingly foolish and superstitious. After 
forty days the mother bathed again, and money was 
given to every relation and connection of the family. 

When the child was about three years old his 
first hair was cut off, and when he was seven he 
went through the ceremony of receiving his janUy 
from which time he was reckoned among the “ twice- 
born.^^ Within a few months from that time he 
was engaged, and shortly afterwards married, every 
epoch of his young life being marked by the per- 
formance of some absurd rite. No expense was ever 
spared, for there was no lack of money in the gold- 
smith’s family, though no doubt a casual observer 
of his house, and especially of the comfortless and 
often dirty apartments of the women, would perhaps 
have judged him poor. This is one of the anomalies 
to which one gets quite accustomed after a long 
residence among the middle-class Hindus and Moham- 
medans of a great Indian city. 

The little fellow, who had received so hearty a 
welcome, and who had brought so much happiness 
into the goldsmith’s home, was soon in a fair way 
to being completely spoiled and made into every 
one’s tyrant, though each warned all the others not 
to spoil the boy, and the women were quite agreed 
that Prem Chand was the only person who over- 


58 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


indulged him ; while Prem Chand, for his part, de- 
clared that, what with the attentions of a maternal 
great-grandmother and a paternal grandmother, besides 
two widowed aunts, three uncles’ wives, three little 
sisters, and a doting mother, to say nothing of one 
or two old daies who lavished upon him all the 
admiring epithets of the almost inexhaustible voca- 
bulary at the command of every Eastern mind, he 
never knew a boy more unlikely to learn obedience 
or to be any good in the world. 

But little Nihdl Chand’s time of supreme rule in 
the household drew rapidly to an end, and one day, 
when he was not yet three years old, he was roused 
from sleep to be told the important news that he 
had a little brother. 

Now indeed the goldsmith felt himself a rich and 
happy man, and his wife forgot all her old fears, 
and could rejoice in her title of “the mother of 
Nihdl Chand” or “the mother of Muhkam Chand.” 
Her two fine boys grew apace, and became very 
fond of each other, the younger unconsciously saving 
the elder from being “ spoilt,” and the elder find- 
ing incessant amusement and delight in all that con- 
cerned his funny little brother. Nihal Chand was, 
of course, the first, as years went on, to go to the 
Government school as a day scholar, and he was 
already making some progress in his studies, when 
there came for him the very happy day on which 


THE GOLDSMITH’S SON. 


59 


he first introduced to the most junior form his young 
brother, over whom he watched with a love and 
care which, indeed, rendered quite superfluous the 
numberless injunctions daily received during the first 
few weeks of the experiment from the proud father, 
as well as from the excited and anxious women, 
who, with many tears, saw the school-going begin, 
and who could only comfort themselves by prepar- 
ing for those boys against their return home in the 
evening plentiful supplies of sweetmeats and jpildo. 

During the few years which passed while these 
lads attended the Government school in Akbarpur 
there were two or three changes of the head-master, 
and twice in the time it happened that the head- 
master was a Christian ; once when Philip Muhkam 
Din had the post, and again at the time at which 
we have been introduced to the town when Mohin- 
drdnd,th Chakkarbatty was in charge of the school. 
Under other masters the boys heard nothing parti- 
cular about any religion ; the days passed away in 
regular and hard study, with intervals of boyish 
sports, and with many a public holiday, on which 
the boys remained at home for special observances 
connected with their own religion, or went to melas 
or other tamdshas, as the case might be. Out of 
school-hours they did not come into touch with their 
master, and nothing in any of their studies or pur- 
suits brought the question of different creeds before 


6o THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


their youthful minds. But it happened that, while 
Philip Muhkam Din was master, a small Mission 
school for boys was opened in another part of the 
town, to which at first the few Christian boys of the 
place began to go, and soon others also chose to 
attend there. In charge of that school was a Chris- 
tian master from a large Mission station, and it was 
also occasionally visited by an English missionary. 

Philip Muhkam Din was one of the best friends 
of the Mission schoolmaster, and it was owing to 
his influence that many friendships were made be- 
tween the students at the two schools, as he en- 
couraged their meeting at cricket and in other sports, 
and occasionally invited boys from each school to his 
house for recitations and other intellectual entertain- 
ments. It was natural that boys who did not 
attend the Mission school should have their curiosity 
awakened, and should make many inquiries of their 
acquaintances who did, and so it came to pass that, 
although many a lad whose father held strictly 
orthodox Hindu or Mohammedan views was expressly 
forbidden even to listen to reports of what was taught 
and done in the new school, it was not long before 
the majority of the boys in the town managed to 
arrive at a tolerably clear understanding as to the 
order of things there, and to find out something of 
the distinctive teaching which went on there. The 
immediate result of this was that many scoffed, and 


THE GOLDSMITH'S SON. 


6i 


a few were led to a closer friendship with Christian 
boys, and to more inquiry and a keener feeling of 
interest. But ultimately most of the wondering and 
questioning ceased ; like other surprising things, this 
enterprise on the part of the missionaries had its 
‘‘ nine days ” of novelty, and then the Mission school 
was allowed quietly to take and hold its place among 
the other institutions of the town, and its boys made 
good progress, went up for examinations, and passed 
in as good proportion as the boys from other schools ; 
aye, and sometimes in better. So in the course of 
two or three years it seemed to be almost forgotten 
by the inhabitants of Akbarpur that the Mission 
school, which many of them now admired and liked, 
had ever been a somewhat unpopular innovation. 

When Muhkam Chand was about twelve years 
old he had a boy friend who studied at the Mission 
school, and who was intimate with some of the 
Christians of the place. Often did he hear some- 
thing from this companion which made him have a 
strange fancy to know more about Christian people 
and their religion, and, boy as he was, he made an 
earnest resolve in his own heart, and most secretly 
(for he knew the intense bigotry of his family), that 
somehow or other he would obtain for himself and 
diligently investigate the statements of some portion 
of the Christians Book. An opportunity came. 

It happened one day, as all the boys were coming 



i 


But will you really read it V’ said the lady ." — Page G:i. 





THE GOLDSMITH’S SON. 


63 


Nihal Chand and his brother were among the crowd 
round the lady, and their hands were, with many 
others, ready to snatch anything to read which she 
might offer ; but as she gave Nihd.! Chand a leaflet 
with the title, “The Precious Blood of Christ,’^ and 
looking straight at him, said, “This will teach you 
about the only way of salvation,’’ he started back. 
No ! he didn’t want that. He recollected himself, 
and at once chose to forego the pleasure of “ some- 
thing to read” rather than run the risk of reading 
anything so contrary to all his ideas of what was right. 
He refused the tract and turned away. “ Come 
away, boys,” he cried, “the books are not good. 
Come away, Muhkam Chand ; we ought not to read 
these things.” 

“ Yes, brother, I am coming,” said Muhkam Chand ; 
but he went quickly round to the other side of the 
doolie and hurriedly whispered, “ O ma’am ! please 
give me one little portion of your Holy Book. I want 
no tract ; I want Bible.” 

“ But will you really read it ? ” said the lady. 

“Yes, yes; I must, I will. Do give; my brother 
is getting angry. I promise to read. I have wished 
to do so from many days.” 

With one or two earnest words to the boy, which 
she could scarcely detain him to hear as he almost 
snatched the Gospel of St. Luke from her hand, 
the lady lifted up her heart to the prayer-hearing 


64 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


God for a blessing on His own Word, and besought 
Him to make it “ a savour of life unto life ” to 
that dear lad. 

God works wondrously, and often in ways which 
seem to foolish man slow. Where we would hurry 
on to what we imagine to be a brilliant success, He 
calmly waits, and — 

“ Deep in unfathomable mines 
Of never-failing skill. 

He treasures up His deep designs 
And works His sovereign Will.” 

Muhkam Chand’s new treasure was for a long 
time most carefully hidden, for he really desired to 
read and to understand something of its teaching, 
and at first he took opportunities of quietly read- 
ing a little when alone, and then again he would 
lock up the Book. Then would come a season of 
forgetfulness, and it remained for many weeks un- 
sought and unread, and once several months passed 
by without more than an occasional thought of it 
crossing his mind. Then again, when some circum- 
stance reminded him of the Christian's teaching, he 
would for a few days bethink him of his Book, 
and turning it out, read two or three passages. He 
was a thoughtful lad, and he liked exceedingly the 
style of the reading; he said to himself that the 
language was beautiful and the stories very attrac- 


THE GOLDSMITH'S SON. 65 

tive. He wondered why there was something about 
the parables and the accounts of Christ’s miracles 
which always made him want to read more. Other 
books, too, were pleasing to him. He loved history, 
and was noted at school for having such a thirst 
for knowledge of all sorts that it seemed impos- 
sible for him to get satisfied ; but somehow or other 
this one portion of the Gospel had delights for him 
which not even the most charming school-books had 
ever possessed. As he grew more and more inte- 
rested in St. Luke’s account of our Blessed Lord’s 
life, he became conscious that he was held, as it 
were, in a chain ; that a power, gentle yet strong, 
was growing upon him, and that he was beginning 
almost naturally to bring other things, other studies, 
other pursuits, to the test of this one small Book. 
But this came about very gradually indeed, and it 
was just five years since the day when he had re- 
ceived it from the missionary lady’s hand — five years 
since, on her homeward ride in her doolie, she 
had again and again pleaded with God for a bless- 
ing on that Gospel and for the salvation of that 
boy’s soul — that Muhkam Chand first acknowledged 
to himself that, instead of sometimes reading it as 
an amusement and sometimes forgetting it for weeks 
together, returning to its casual study only as a plea- 
sant intellectual pastime, he was now drawn within 

the strange and powerful influence of its teaching. 

E 


66 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


He had begun to love, not alone its beautiful lan- 
guage, or the touching simplicity of its stories and 
parables, but something else; something which — he 
knew not how or why — met a yearning of his spirit ; 
something to which his heart responded. He was 
puzzled, and often asked himself what this mysterious 
something could be. 

At length, after many questionings, he came one 
day to the conclusion that it was not something, but 
some One, for that the beauty and attractiveness of 
the Book lay entirely in its Central Figure, in the 
character and work and words of the One whose his- 
tory it told ; and he said to himself, as he thoughtfully 
turned over one after another of its now well-read 
pages, “ The Book speaks to my heart because of this 
wonderful Man ; its attractive beauty is Jesus Christ.” 

When he had come to this decision he felt deeply 
moved, and wondered in himself whether he were 
doing wrong in studying this book so much. One 
moment he half resolved to put it away once for all 
and to read it no more ; the next he found himself rea- 
soning that he had at least seen no harm whatever 
in it, he had read no words in its pages except the 
purest, had felt no thoughts stirred within him except 
thoughts of wonder at the power and wisdom and 
love of Him whose words and deeds he was study- 
ing, and of desire to be made holy and happy. 

Surely,” he would say in his heart, “ a Book with 


THE GOLDSMITH'S SON. 


67 


such effects cannot be bad, and yet our learned 
Pandits hate it and forbid us to read it.’^ Thus 
tossed about with many anxious and doubting 
thoughts, he finally resolved that, as Philip Muhkam 
Din was again his schoolmaster, he would take the 
opportunity always so readily given to the lads by 
the earnest Christian placed temporarily, in God's 
providence, at the head of their school, and seek a 
quiet conversation with him on the subject which so 
engrossed his mind. Philip Muhkam Din had had 
a large amount of experience in dealing with boys, 
and could enter with much gentle sympathy into 
their difficulties and understand their various modes 
of thought, especially on religious subjects ; and one 
thing which gave him power with his young friends, 
and enabled him to give a helping hand to not a 
few, was that he never betrayed their confidence or 
discussed their heart-secrets in common conversation 
with others. So the promise not to tell was at once 
given and at once trusted. ‘‘For you must promise 
not to tell," the lad had said as he set out one 
evening on a quiet road near the town in company 
with the schoolmaster ; and then forthwith he began 
his simple tale concerning the possession of that 
Gospel of St. Luke, and how he had grown so fond 
of it, and so convinced of there being something 
good and wonderful in it, something which did not 
appear to him to be found in other religious books. 


68 THE WELHSPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


The schoolmaster listened with a happy heart, but, 
for the sake of the lad’s safety, he dared not in the 
public road betray any of his emotion ; and, indeed, 
Muhkam Chand’s story was often interrupted by the 
necessity all at once for being quiet or talking about 
something else, whenever they met acquaintances or 
passed a number of boys or men, lest his words 
should be overheard and repeated to his relations, 
when, of course, all further intercourse with the 
schoolmaster would speedily be put an end to. 
Among other things, he told his teacher how greatly 
he longed to see once more that lady who, seated 
in her doolie, had given him the precious Gospel 
and made him promise to read it. ‘‘It is now nearly 
three years since I have seen her doolie passing 
occasionally through our town ; but I have never 
again had a chance to speak to her since that day, 
more than five years ago, when she gave me the 
Gospel. I should so like to know where she is, and 
why during these three years I have not seen her 
again.” 

Philip Muhkam Dm replied,, very gravely, “She 
is in heaven. For all of us who are left here 
without her help and friendship it is very sad, but 
for her it is joy and rest, and so we say with all 
our hearts, ‘ The Lord’s Will be done ! ’ She was 
for some years in this neighbourhood, working in the 
different villages among the ignorant women and chil- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S SON. 


69 


dren, and speaking to boys and men whom she met 
on the road, pointing out to them the only way of 
salvation. Her schools are still carried on by teachers 
whom she trained, but as yet no one has come from 
England to take her place, and she is much missed 
and lamented by many people.” 

After a little pause Philip Muhkam Din added, 
“ I am sure that, if she gave you that Gospel, she 
prayed earnestly to God to bless it to you, and to 
show you in it the way to be saved and made happy 
for ever.” 

“ I have never heard Christians pray,” said the lad. 
“Do you believe that God hears them?” 

“ Oh yes ! ” was the hearty answer. “ There is not 
the slightest possibility of doubt ; for in the Holy 
Book which God has given us to be a lamp unto 
our feet and a light unto our paths He has pro- 
mised — and He cannot lie — to hear and answer our 
prayers. One condition, however, among others — 
and the most important of them — is imposed. It is 
that those prayers should be offered in the name 
of Jesus, for He is our Mediator and Kedeemer, and 
He has, by His precious death and glorious resur- 
rection, opened a way for us into the presence of 
God and ensured our acceptance.” 

The boy seemed interested and pleased, and raised 
none of the objections which are so commonly put 
forward by lads of his age. This struck Philip very 


70 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 

much, and he felt encouraged to go on and tell 
him more and more of the blessed truths of the 
Gospel. His words found a ready listener, because 
that listener was one whose heart had been already 
impressed by the Word of God, with the Blessed 
Spirit of all grace and light teaching him, although 
he knew it not, and leading him on to trust, through 
the instrumentality of that one Book. 

If there is a lesson in connection with mission 
work which, beyond others, needs to be more fully and 
practically learned by the people of God, it is the 
lesson of the urgent importance of disseminating His 
Holy Word. 

Muhkam Chand never forgot his walk that even- 
ing with the Christian schoolmaster. How he wished 
all Christians were like this one, and how he won- 
dered why they were not ! Why was Babu Mohin- 
drdnath Chakkarbatty always so unwilling, when he 
happened to be in charge of the school, to let the 
boys ask him any questions about Christianity ? 
And how was it that he himself would scarcely have 
liked to venture to tell him anything of what he 
had so gladly confided to Philip, and would certainly 
not have expected much sympathy or help from him 
if he had ? Both were Christians ; it puzzled the 
boy. “ Surely,^’ he thought, “ if a man can choose 
to be a Christian, he should not be frightened and 
ashamed about his religion. It is either good or bad ; 


THE GOLD SMITHES SON, 71 

if good, he should rejoice in it and teach it to 
others ; if bad, he should leave it.” Conscience, 
which in his case was awake, soon made him apply 
this test to his own religion, and he made answer 
to himself, “But I am only considering as yet; and 
when I have decided, then I shall act” 

Before he parted from his kind friend and school- 
master that evening he heard that within a week 
an exchange of head-masters would again take place, 
and Mohindr^nd-th be once more at Akbarpur, while 
Philip expected promotion to the important school 
in the city of Amritsar. He was very sorry, and he 
thought perhaps he should never see this kind friend 
again ; but his love for him, strong as it really was, 
could not prevail to make him agree to the proposal 
that they should kneel together for a minute or two 
in prayer under a tree by the roadside. It was 
getting dusk, and the road at a little distance from 
the town was nearly deserted, compared with what 
it had been an hour before ; but Muhkam Chand 
feared lest any one who knew him should pass by, 
and so he said quickly, “No; we should be seen. I 
dare not. But I shall remember all your kind teach- 
ing, and thank you.” Then he added, with a wistful, 
eager look, “ I should like to pray in my own room ; 
but do you think God will hear my prayers?” He 
was earnestly and affectionately assured that, with- 
out a doubt, God was more willing to hear than he 


72 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


could be to pray, and he returned home with fresh 
light breaking in upon his soul. 

Another year of quiet waiting and of increasing 
belief in the power of prayer and in the love of 
God was to pass away before he would be able to 
confess Christ before men. But now the lad had a 
hidden treasure even greater than his old precious 
Gospel of St. Luke, for he had saved enough pocket- 
money to purchase for himself a whole Bible, his 
kind friend, Philip Muhkam Din, gladly going for 
him to the shop where they could be had, as he 
feared exposure if he were seen getting one on his 
own account. 

This Bible he began to study diligently, often at 
night, so intense grew his desire to know more, and 
yet more, of its blessed truths. And now, all un- 
known as he still was to the outside world except 
as a benighted Hindu, in God’s sight he was already 
a thirsty believer who was beginning to realise the 
full sweetness of the promise — 

“With joy shall ye dkaw water out or the 
WELLS of salvation.” 


CHAPTEE V. 


LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEMJ’ 


A little child, 

So feeble, so afflicted, and withal 
So little practised in the ways of earth. 

Doth take the agfed traveller by the hand ; 

And then, in eager, childish sympathy, 

Stretch yet another hand to that young scholar 
Keen for learning ; and the while to each alike 
He lisps with simple faith the story of his Friend ; 
Before they are aware he leads them on, 

With those strong silken cords of child’s sweet love. 
Nearer to Jesus. 


It was only a few days before the time at which we 
were introduced to little blind David and his father, 
as well as to the goldsmith’s family, that an old man 
might have been seen slowly moving through the 
busy hdzdrs of Akbarpur. He walks with a stooping 
figure ; the marks of travel and neglect are plainly 
visible upon him ; any one passing him closely might 
often hear him sigh, and he- seems absorbed in 
anxious thought. He rarely asks an alms, and he 
appears to have no care about his bodily wants ; 
but occasionally he sits down by the wayside as if 
too weary to go farther, and at such times the 
charitable passer-by often gives him a pice or two, 

73 


74 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


or some one comes out of a little shop and offers 
him a small quantity of flour or rice or other dry 
food, with a lowly reverence before him in acknow- 
ledgment of the evident fact that he is a holy 
Brahman. He never refuses what is offered, but 
looks grateful and pleased. Surely we have seen 
that wistful, eager face before, and that weary, stoop- 
ing form? Yes! the traveller is none other than 
Narain Dd-ss, our old friend the faqir, and he has 
reached the plains after his long hill-journey, and is 
feeling worn-out with his fatigue and exposure, while 
the heat of these last days of the month of June 
seems almost more than his aged frame can bear. 

Narain Dass had walked, with short intervals of 
rest, all the way from the shady resting-place under 
the pipal-tree where we last saw him to the rail- 
way, a distance of about thirty miles. In the early 
part of his life he would have found no railway 
there to carry him on ; and even now, in his old 
age, he would not have availed himself, but for his 
many infirmities, of such a mode of reaching his 
destination, but would have tramped on in spite of 
weariness, passing slowly from village to village and 
from town to town, until he had fulfilled his desire 
to gaze upon that famous tank which was so far 
renowned among the Sikhs, and into the special 
merits of which he, though a Brahman, was resolved 
to make careful inquiry once more before his death. 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 75 


lest he should miss any blessing obtainable there- 
from ; for he was losing faith in everything he had 
trusted and loved since boyhood, and he would at 
least know whether all seekers of life everlasting 
who went to that tank expecting to find the price- 
less boon were disappointed in their hope of proving 
the waters around Amritsar’s Golden Temple to be 
“ the Well-Spring of Immortality.” 

But to take the railway even as far as Akbarpur 
meant to be saved a walk of two hundred miles, 
and Narain Dass was too old to think lightly of 
such an advantage. Besides, there was the saving 
of time to be thought of ; for he greatly doubted 
whether, if he attempted the journey on foot, he 
should ever reach his destination at all, as some- 
thing seemed to tell him that the sands of life 
were running out very rapidly now and the end 
was near. The desire to break his journey at Ak- 
barpur. originated in his wish to visit a very vener- 
able and holy faqir whom he had heard of as living 
not far from that town. He had never seen him, 
and was not sure whether he would prove to be 
a Brahman or a Sikh, but he had been much im- 
pressed by rumours of his remarkable sanctity and 
learning, and he longed to add a visit to this holy 
man to the already long list of religious duties per- 
formed by himself. The cost of the railway ticket 
was small, and he had carefully treasured up all 


76 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


the pice he received in alms, living on whatever 
small offerings of food were given him in addi- 
tion, until he had just enough to carry him in the 
crowded third-class carriage, which, having an upper 
storey, is capable of carrying eighty persons, and 
often carries morel 

When he reached Akbarpur it was still only about 
two weeks since, by the mountain stream, he had told 
the listening travellers the history of his life. But 
in those few days he seemed to have grown much 
more weary and weighed down with care. Even the 
comparatively quick and easy way in which he had ac- 
complished his journey had not prevented his looking 
more tired than ever, and as he frequently sat down to 
rest for a little while, he often said to himself, “ So 
many years, and so much toil, and no satisfaction ! ” 

He asked from one or two persons the way to 
the abode of the famous old faqir, and was directed 
by one who seemed to know to walk straight on out 
of the town for about a mile, and then to turn 
into a garden, where, in a little temple, he would find 
the object of his search. 

Narain Dass was disappointed to find that he 
had still so far to go, and again he sat down and 
waited while he considered whether he had strength 
enough left to do the walk that evening. Just 
then the two sons of the goldsmith happened to 
pass. 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM, 77 


See,” said Nihal Chand, here is a poor old 
faqiT ; let us give him a few pice.” 

When the brothers had given an alms to the old 
man, and he had solemnly said, ‘‘ God reward you ! ” 
they were about to pass on, but he detained them 
to ask once more the distance to the dwelling-place of 
the celebrated olA faqir, with perhaps a faint hope 
that those who had spoken of it as a mile might 
prove to have been mistaken ; but Muhkam Chand’s 
ready answer at once dashed that hope — 

‘‘ Oh Baba ! you cannot go half so far to-night ; 
it is two miles and a half, and you look so tired 
you will faint by the way. Go early in the morn- 
ing, and meanwhile come to' our house. Our father 
always approves of our bringing home any holy man 
to whom he may have the privilege of giving a room, 
a chdrpaie, and some bread. Yes, you must come 
home with us ; and in the morning I shall go with 
you to guide you to the holy faqir, for it will be a 
Mohammedan feast, and therefore a holiday for all 
the schools.” 

And so it came to pass that Narain Dass, the 
faqir, went home with young Muhkam Chand and his 
brother, and accepted the food gladly given to him 
as a religious duty by the goldsmith’s family, within 
one of the courts of whose house he was soon rest- 
ing on a bare chdrpaie under the open sky. The 
fierce heat of the day was gone, but the close, stifling 


78 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


air made sleeping in small native rooms a torture, 
and every one took his chdrpaie to roof or open 
court in the hope of obtaining sleep. 

Muhkam Chand had the character in his family 
of being ‘‘very religious,” and no one was surprised, 
therefore, that he seemed much attracted by the old 
man, and showed a disposition to stay near him to 
hear him talk. Narain Dass did not talk much, 
but he told his young listener some of his history, 
though not at all in the full and minute way in 
which he had told it on the hillside. Muhkam 
Chand had an intense desire to ask this holy man 
something about his ideas on the subject of prayer. 
He wondered whether he had any comfort from his 
prayers. The old man seemed to him too honest and 
simple to be a cheat, but did he really believe that 
his mantras were acceptable to God, and that his 
bead-counting was of any avail in the great work of 
saving his soul ? 

The lad thought he would go and ask him, and 
accordingly, when others were eating their evening 
meal, he went yet again to find his new acquaintance. 
He expected to see him risen from his chdrpaie and 
gone to perform some special evening devotions in a 
room opening off the court where he was to sleep, 
a room set apart for faqirs, for the goldsmith re- 
garded it as a meritorious act to take in one of 
these holy men and give him a room in which he 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 79 


would be uninterrupted in the performance of all the 
duties of religion. 

The old man was reading; for, although it was 
already dark, a small chirdg had been carefully placed 
for his use. Muhkam Chand saw his stooping figure 
bending towards the light while he appeared to be 
very eagerly perusing the small book which he held 
in his hand. He was seated on the fioor with his 
back towards the door, and was so engrossed with 
his occupation that he did not notice the approach 
of Muhkam Chand, who came near enough to glance 
over his shoulder at the little book, and who was 
unable to suppress an exclamation of astonishment 
as he saw that it was a portion (in Hindi) of the 
Christians’ Holy Book. Narain Dd-ss hastily closed 
the book, and as he remained quiet, Muhkam Chand 
said, “ What, Baba ! are you, then, reading the Chris- 
tians’ Bible ? ’’ 

“And how do you, my son, so easily recognise it 
as the Christians’ Bible ? Have you ever seen it 
before ? 

Muhkam Chand evaded this question by replying, 
“Bead some words to me. Baba, and I will tell you 
if I have ever heard them before. 

But the old man was not willing at first to comply 
with this request, and he continued to try and as- 
certain how Muhkam Chand could so easily have 
recognised the book in his hand. 


8o THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


Muhkam Chand said, “ Of course, Baba, you never 
went to school, and you do not know how in these 
days all books come before the eyes of schoolboys, 
and they hear a good deal about different religions/^ 
So saying, the lad threw himself on a chdrpaie and 
began to fan himself with as indifferent an air as 
he could assume. 

Narain Ddss opened his book and said, “ I learned 
to read Hindi as I was going about from one faqir 
to another in the days of my youth, and once some 
one gave me this portion of the Book of the Chris- 
tians. There is some fine writing in it, in spite of 
the strange notions of the people who believe it.” 

“What strange notions in particular are held by 
Christians ? asked the boy, as carelessly as he could. 

“ Oh ! they think that all men are hopelessly un- 
able to help themselves and keep themselves from 
sin, and that no one can be holy unless he first 
gets all his old sins forgiven ; and even then that 
his alms and prayers and pilgrimages do not save 
him or make him holy, but that all has to be done 
for him by Another; and they say that One does 
it for all men of all countries alike ; that He calls 
all and welcomes all, and does the work of salva- 
tion for all, and that His death” — (“ Which, of course, 
we know is an historical fact,” interrupted the boy) 
— “ was by way of a sacrifice for all.” 

“ But,” urged the very interested listener, “ I want 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 8i 


to hear you read, Babd. Bead some passages from 
your Book.” 

At last Narain Dass complied, and for the first 
time in that dark Hindu house the Word of God, 
which liveth and abideth for ever, was read aloud. 
Very strange it was to the dear lad, who had so 
long studied its sacred pages in secret, to hear it 
read by another, and very beautiful and sweet did 
the words sound in his ears as the old faqir read 
slowly by the dim light, and yet with a fluency 
and power of expression which showed that he was 
very familiar with what he was reading — the third 
and fourth chapters of St. John s Gospel. 

Afterwards the old man spoke of the peculiar 
appropriateness of the image of water, and said how 
truly the soul which was longing for God was athirst, 
and how really he could understand the sense of 
satisfaction and rest which might come if man could 
only believe he had been forgiven and could be 
made holy ; it would certainly be like the quenching 
of a long parching thirst. 

“But, alas!” he concluded, “it seems to me that 
such blessedness is not for us mortals. Nothing 
that has been taught us or written for us comes 
at all near to satisfying the thirst of the soul. I 
propose now to go to the Golden Temple at Am- 
ritsar, because some holy Sikh faqirs say that there, 
at the ‘Well-Spring of Immortality,’ real satisfac- 

F 


82 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


tion may be found, and that even Brahmans have 
proved the efficacy of its waters. It may be that, 
in my old age, though I have often tried in vain 
before, I shall find it possible to quench my thirst, 
and then I shall die in peace. First, however, I 
should like to see the holy man of whom I told you, 
and after that I will proceed to Amritsar.” 

“ Good,” said the boy, not willing for the present 
to confide anything to his new acquaintance; “I 
shall go with you to-morrow, as I promised, and 
so help you on your way. Meanwhile you are tired 
and should rest, and so I leave you for the night. 
Saldm, father.” 

“ Saldm, my son,’' said the old man, and they 
parted. 

The boy returned to his brother, and talked on 
many subjects in boyish fashion, but ever and anon 
in his heart the words seemed to be ringing out 
as clearly as if a voice had spoken to him — “ A well 
of water springing up into everlasting life.” The 
absurdity of supposing that that tank at Amritsar 
could be the “Well-Spring of Immortality” began 
to make itself more and more felt, and he wondered 
how any intelligent, educated man or schoolboy could 
ever believe in such a lie. 

The next morning very early he set forth to show 
Narain Dd,ss the way to the old faqiPs abode. 
It happened to be a Mohammedan feast-day, but 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM, 83 

that made no difference to the people of other reli- 
gions, except to ensure the children a holiday from 
school. The month's fast, called the '' Ramazdn^^ 
was just ended, and the poor Mohammedans, who 
fully believed that during the four weeks of their 
so-called fast they had been gaining the favour and 
blessing of God, began to enjoy themselves in good 
earnest ; the men first of all, of course, going to 
the Masjid to read prayer and to hear some preach- 
ing, and afterwards every one making merry the 
whole day. But it would puzzle any one to have 
to explain what was being done or commemorated 
or enjoyed. What can thousands of people find in 
such an aimless sort of festivity to enjoy or to 
make much of? There seemed to be no point in 
it all ; and perhaps the one good effect it might 
be said to have was, that certainly every Mohamme- 
dan came out on that morning as cleanly and decently 
dressed as he could ; and even the poor women and 
children looked tidy and clean for once in the year, 
and were in most instances gaily dressed, bright- 
coloured chdddars distinguishing the girls and women, 
while the boys set themselves off with magnificent 
turbans which looked as if they had just come 
from the hands of the dyer. These people were all 
bustling to and fro, carrying trays of sweets and 
fruit as offerings for their friends, and talking and 
laughing loudly in the full enjoyment of their 


84 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


“great day.” The preparation of the sweets, &c., 
is the part which can be enjoyed by the jpardah- 
nisMn, or women who never go out of their zena- 
nas, and many of the gaily dressed and unusually 
clean women in the streets are carrying trays from 
one pardah lady to another, and are their servant- 
women. 

If any one should chance to ask a Mohammedan 
what it all meant, he would probably receive for 
answer no further explanation than the words, “ Oh, 
we are heeping the Feasts But as far as any motive 
or purpose in keeping such a feast was concerned, 
none could give a reason for keeping it at all ; and 
as to spiritual edification or teaching, how could the 
poor benighted creatures get these out of their reli- 
gion, seeing they were never in it? A shell they 
may possess, but we shall look in vain for a kernel. 
But to our Hindu friends the doings of the Moham- 
medans make little difference, and so Muhkam Chand 
and his new acquaintance went on their way] to- 
gether not at all affected by the feast and the gay 
crowds who were keeping it. Just before they 
reached the gate of the town by which they would 
have emerged upon the road to the faqiRs abode, 
they saw that the people were running togetherjin 
a state of great excitement at one place, and there 
were loud cries as if some accident had occurred. 
They quickly joined the others in trying to find out 





“ Tlie servant-lad seated him under a pii)al-tree in a cotd corner l»y a well 

— Pag^ 86 . 



A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 85 


what was the matter, and were told many different 
tales, probable and improbable. From all they could 
make out, it appeared that a blind boy had been 
knocked down by a horse which had suddenly turned 
a corner as the child was crossing the road. 

At once Muhkam Chand exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, I must 
see whether it is my schoolmaster's son ! " 

Elbowing his way through the crowd, he managed 
to reach the boy, who was standing up and trying 
to free himself from all his kind helpers and sym- 
pathisers. It was little David, and very delighted he 
was to hear Muhkam Chand's voice, which he knew 
at once, and as soon as he could get near to him 
he begged the schoolboy to take him home. It 
turned out that he had not really been knocked 
down by the horse, but only by a sudden movement 
in the crowd as the horse quickly turned the corner ; 
so he was not hurt, only a little frightened. The 
child was never allowed to go out by himself, though 
very clever at finding his way about. On that morn- 
ing, however, the servant-lad who took care of him 
had left him for a few minutes while he himself went 
to a shop ; but he had first most carefully seated him 
under a pfpal-tree in a cool corner by a well, and 
had bid him on no account to move until he came 
to take him home. But little David was venturesome, 
and thought he would like to try and get home 
alone, so he called out merrily after Fath Khdn, his 


86 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


servant-boy, “Perhaps, when you come again, you 
will find that I have run away.” 

Path Khan was indeed in great trouble when he 
returned to the pipal-tree and found his little charge 
gone ; and hurrying as quickly as he could towards 
home, the while he thought of many things to say to 
the child by way of reprimand and to frighten him 
from attempting any such venturesome tricks in 
future, he overtook, within a few yards of the school- 
master’s door, the little strange-looking party — the 
aged faqir, the bright, intelligent Hindu schoolboy, 
and the delicate blind child giving a hand to each 
of his companions, who were leading him with much 
kindness and speaking cheerfully to him about his 
fright. 

“ Thanks be to Allah ! ” exclaimed Path KMn, 
“ my luck is good indeed ! That child might have 
been killed or kidnapped, or had some other dread- 
ful thing happen to him, and then what would have 
become of me ] ” and again and again saying, “ Praise 
to Allah ! ” Path Khdn hurried on and overtook 
our three pedestrians. Many explanations followed, 
and then Path KMn was preparing to resume his 
charge of the boy, but little David said, No ; he 
would take the faqir and Muhkam Chand home, 
and tell his mother how kind they had been to 
him ; and, besides, he wanted to talk with them, and 
hear where they were going and what they meant to 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 87 

do on this holiday, and so would they please go on 
talking and leading him between them ? 

Ah ! how little did they imagine that a little 
child was leading them! 

When they all reached the schoolmaster’s house 
they found him at home, on account of the holi- 
day. Fath Khan hurried on with a very anxious 
heart, and hastily began to tell his story, but he 
was interrupted — 

“Wretch!” exclaimed B^bu Mohindr^ndth, “you 
have killed my son, and now you would like to 
hide your evil doings with a lie.” 

But little David was close behind, and in a 
moment his eager voice was heard — 

“No, no, father; it was my own fault; and see, 
I am not hurt at all ; and here is one of your 
schoolboys, and a faqir who was walking with him 
is just outside ; and they were kind to me, and 
helped me all the way home. It was my fault, 
it was not Fath Khan’s ; he only left me under 
that pipal where I often have sat and waited for 
him before. He told me to wait, but I wanted to 
try and get home alone ; so, please, don’t be angry 
with Fath Khan.” 

David’s mother was clasping her darling child in 
her arms by this time, but she soon put him down 
and turned courteously to the strangers, whom the 
schoolmaster had been too excited to notice. 


88 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


‘‘ Sit down and rest,” she said kindly. “ It was 
very good of you to walk up here with my child 
instead of carrying out your own plans, as no doubt 
you^' (turning to Muhkam Chand) ‘‘had arranged 
some nice way of spending a public holiday ? ” 

“ No,” he replied ; “ nothing in particular. I was 
really without plans, Bibi Sahiba, until I found that 
this venerable father was in need of guidance to 
the place where lives, in wondrous sanctity, the 
honoured faqir Behd,ri Lai, and I volunteered to 
spend my holiday in showing him the road thither; 
and we were proceeding on our way, when we were 
suddenly made aware of your little son’s supposed 
accident, and we at once hastened to the spot to 
render him all the help we could.” 

The wife of the schoolmaster could scarcely re- 
frain from smiling at the mention of faqlr Behdri 
Ldks “ wondrous sanctity,” for she could not help 
remembering some of the reports concerning his 
life which were utterly opposed to his claim to any 
such description, and she had several times seen the 
repulsive-looking old man who made his living by 
trading on the credulity of multitudes of poor, igno- 
rant, foolish persons to whom “ sanctity” was a word 
meaning nothing at all. But she was always very 
courteous to those non-Christians who happened to 
come to her house, and anxious to win them to 
the knowledge of the One who was to her at all 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 89 


times ‘‘a living, bright Eeality;’’ so she never hastily 
said anything 'which would unnecessarily wound their 
feelings, and now she only remarked to Muhkam 
Chand, “It will be a long walk, my son, and you 

must be very tired and ” she was going to add 

thirsty, but she paused, for she remembered she could 
not ojffer any water or other refreshment to a Hindu. 

At that moment little David’s father exclaimed, 
“ Oh ! I remember that facfir Behari Ldl is not in 
this district just now ; he is gone on a special 
pilgrimage to the Ganges, and he will not be back 
for some three or four weeks. I heard this yesterday 
on good authority, so it would be only waste of time 
for you to go and seek him at his usual place on 
the Akbarpur road. 

“What will you do now, Bdbd?” asked Muhkam 
Chand of the old man. 

Narain Dass looked up weary and disappointed, and 
said in a very sad tone, “Truly, my son, I do not 
know, unless I just begin my journey to Amritsar.” 

“First you shall return and rest yet one more 
night at our house,” said the lad, “and then you 
shall proceed. But before we begin our 'v^alk home, 
Babd,, would you not like to drink some water ? See, I 
can fetch you some very quickly from the well of that 
Brahman who lives on the other side of the road.” 

Narain Dass gratefully accepted this offer, and 
while Muhkam Chand was gone for the water he 


90 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


sat looking very tired and sad. Little David felt his 
way near to the old man, and began to ask him 
about his life and journeys. The faqir told him 
but little, just to satisfy and please the child, and he 
often sighed as he told how he was going on to 
Amritsar, seeking rest. 

“ Oh ! cried the child, “ I wish you knew my Friend. 
You canT go to see your friend ; you see, you’ve been 
disappointed ; but I can always find my Friend ! ” 

“And who is your friend?” asked the old man. 

“My Friend is Jesus,” lisped the happy, trusting 
child. “He takes care of me, and gives me all I 
want; and to-day He sent you and Muhkam Ghand 
to help me when I was in trouble.” 

“ How do you know that ? ” questioned the old faqir, 

“Because He has promised to be always with those 
who love Him, and He gives His angels charge over 
them to keep them in all their ways.” 

David’s mother looked very happy, and was thank- 
ing God in her heart for the dear child’s simple 
testimony, and his father did not interfere until the 
schoolboy returned ; but he then began to show anxiety 
lest in his, the Government schoolmaster’s house, 
there should be any effort made to proselytise the 
boys who happened to come there. 

Muhkam Chand brought some water for Narain 
Dass, and called him outside to drink it. After this 
they came together into the little outer room of the 


A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. gi 


schoolmaster’s house, where the blind child was still 
waiting to know what they would do next ; and Muh- 
kam Chand took him on his knee and said, ‘‘Now 
then, little one, sing us one of your pretty songs.” 

The faqir sat on a low chdrpaie^ prepared to listen, 
and the child began and sang through the hymn be- 
ginning — 

“ Jesus the water of life has given. 

Freely, freely, freely ; ” 

and the sweet refrain sounded more beautiful than 
anything he had ever heard before to the tired old 
wanderer. 

As they were leaving David’s mother said, Saldm, 
Babd,; and saldm, my son. Will you remember that 
it is not only the prettiness of the hymn that we 
want you to think of, but the blessedness of the 
Word of God which invites us all, saying — 

“‘Whosoever will, let him take the water of 
LIFE freely’?” 



CHAPTER VI. 


^ THINE FOR EVER.r^ 


Hush ! Now I hear that loving Voice 
Which bids me come to Him ; 

And with my heavy load of guilt, 

And through the shadows dim, 

I rise to enter on the way 
That leadeth unto life, 

Though tempting voices bid me stay, 
Though deadly is the strife. 

Though right across my path to Christ 
There lies Despond’s dark slough. 
He bids me come to Him for life. 

And I am coming now ! 

I am not worthy, this I know ; 

Y et, though He say me nay. 

My sin-sick soul resolves to go 
To Him this very day. 


When Muhkam Chand and the faqir left the house 
of the schoolmaster it was getting very hot, for 
they had lingered a long time, and now they could 
only get back by the most shady ways they could 
find to the goldsmith’s house to rest. The faqir 
was unwilling to do this, for he was longing to reach 
Amritsar, and his increasing sense of weariness seemed 
to warn him that his days were numbered. But 
his young companion felt singularly drawn towards 

92 


THINE FOR EVER/ 


93 


him and very desirous to have further talk with the 
interesting old man, so he urged him to come to 
his father’s house and have at least a few hours 
more of rest before proceeding on his way. “ And 
then,” he argued, ‘‘you will be able to think about 
your plans and decide what to do now that you 
cannot see the faqir, Behd-ri Lai.” 

When they reached the house Narain Ddss took 
the food prepared for him, and then lay down to 
sleep in the little room which had been set apart 
for him. But he could not rest. Oh, that word 
“ freely ” ! how it echoed and re-echoed in his ears 
and in his heart ! Whenever he began to sink off 
into restful unconsciousness of his surroundings, it 
seemed as though the sweet, earnest tones of a 
child’s voice could be heard close beside him sing- 
ing, “ Jesus the water of life hath given, freely, 
freely, freely ! ” “ Oh ! then, why,” he would cry 

as he suddenly started up, “why have I toiled and 
travelled, why have I lived a life of hardship, why 
am I worn nearly to the death, and yet why have 
I, with all my toil and with all my self-denial, not 
gained as yet that for which I have spent and done 
all? Is it true, indeed, that the blessing for which 
I pant and thirst is free f ” 

Presently Muhkam Chand came to see him. The 
lad^s heart had gone out to his strange old com- 
panion in a very singular manner, and he felt 


94 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


attracted to him, and longed to find out more about 
him ; but he knew that he must be very cautious 
indeed in all that he said, lest he should inad- 
vertently drop any words which might betray his 
own secret decision (for it had come to that now) 
that he himself must follow Jesus. With consider- 
able caution and reserve, therefore, he sat down 
beside the faqir. 

he asked, “what did you think of the 
little boy’s song ? ” 

“ It was pretty, and suited the child,” rephed the 
old man with equal caution ; “ and I should like 
well to hear it again.” 

“But do you think, Bd,ba, that there can be any 
truth in such songs ? ” 

“ Ah, my son ! if we could think that, we should 
have found out a secret which would indeed be 
worth all the gold in India. Why! Did not the 
boy sing that the Water of Immortality has been 
given by their religious teacher freely? It would 
be a fine gift. But, of course, the question which 
must for ever remain darkly unanswered is this — 
Who can prove that such a statement is true ? ” 

“Babd,” said the lad, “there will be this even- 
ing a preaching about the matter, but it will be 
in English, and it is intended especially for boys 
who read English in school. Now, you see, I often 
go to hear all about other people^s ways of think- 


THINE FOR EVER! 


95 


ing, and nobody here objects to my just going to 
hear and see. My brother does not like it, and 
he hardly ever goes ; but it is a very pleasant way 
to pass an evening, and, you see, it improves my 
knowledge of English, among other things; so I 
think I shall go to-night.” 

“ Go, my son ; and when you come back tell me 
what you may have heard. As for me, I shall not 
go, for I cannot understand that language ; and what, 
therefore, could possibly be the benefit to me? I 
shall prosecute my journey to Amritsar as quickly as 
I can, after availing myself for one more night of 
the hospitality of your family.” 

Muhkam Chand assured the faqir that he knew 
he was right welcome to all that they could give 
him, and that his father would be glad to hear 
that for yet another night he would remain to bless 
their humble home. 

In the evening he set forth • to the room, well 
lighted, and with its many texts from Holy Scrip- 
ture adorning the walls and speaking silent mes- 
sages to each person who entered, where some of 
God's servants were about to hold a meeting in 
the name of Christ and preach the Word of everlast- 
ing life. 

A few boys were already there when he arrived, 
and others were waiting outside. Some of the out- 
siders scoffed and mocked at those who went in; 


96 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


and others, as soon as the meeting began, busied 
themselves in calling out those who were willing 
enough, if only they were left alone, to sit quietly 
on the benches and listen. 

“ I will go straight and tell your father I saw 
you here, Muhkam Chand,” said a mischievous-look- 
ing boy of about his own age. 

“ Go and tell him if you care to,” was the reply. 
“He knows I come, and he likes me to listen to 
English. He will say nothing, and every young 
man and boy may go to hear what he likes in 
these days.” 

He affected carelessness, but an earnest watcher 
could see differences in those boys as they sat in 
various idle attitudes on the benches ; and those who 
were so prayerfully, and with strong faith and warm 
love, choosing the hymns and preparing to begin 
the meeting knew one boy from another pretty well, 
and had not a few special names to bear up on 
their hearts before God, and among those names 
was Muhkam Chand’s. Ah ! he scarcely knew it ; 
he certainly did not realise all that it meant; but 
as he sat with a quiet, waiting manner, looking 
for the beginning of the meeting, the thought came 
into more than one heart then yearning to save souls, 
“ Surely Muhkam Chand is very near the Kingdom.” 
He did not realise, either, how very much nearer 
he was then than he had been that morning, how 


THINE FOR EVER! 


97 


the child’s simple song had been used by God to 
break down almost his last feeling of opposition to 
the power of the truths which had since so many 
months gained so strong a hold upon him, and 
how from his inmost heart he was just now yearn- 
ing to accept once for all the living water which 
Jesus gave, “ freely, freely, freely.” 

The meeting began. Hymns of earnest invitation 
to the Saviour arrested the attention of most of the 
audience for some time, and even the naughty boys 
who had come on purpose to interrupt seemed to 
like the strains of “Whosoever will.” Then came 
the reading of God’s Word, when, sad to say, 
several arose noisily and tried to disturb others, and 
giving back to the president the hymn-book which 
each on first entering had seemed to covet, went 
out laughing, and, once outside, continued to plague 
others until a few more, wishing perhaps to stay, 
but too cowardly to do so, arose and followed their 
companions. 

After reading and prayer and more singing, an 
address was given founded upon the words of our 
Lord to the Samaritan woman, “If thou knewest the 
gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee. Give Me 
to drink, thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He 
would have given thee living water.” The speaker 
spoke of the ignorance of the sinner — in such close 
contact with the Saviour, within such easy reach of 

G 


98 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


the gift of God, and yet not Tcnowing ! He spoke 
of the sin and hardness of heart which led to this 
fatal dulness of perception. He then spoke of the 
certain results of knowing — knowing not merely 
with the intellect, but with a warm, loving, believing 
heart. The results must be — (i) asking; (2) receiv- 
ing. “Thou wouldest have asked. He would have 
given.’* 

The address was simple and short, and closed 
with an earnest invitation to each and all to come 
and take of the water of life which Jesus was so 
willing to give, “freely, freely, freely.” Many boys 
and men there would not have listened quietly to any- 
thing long or difficult to follow, but the brevity and 
simplicity of this pleased them, and they were content 
to wait patiently for another hymn ; while a few (a 
very few, not one of whom would for worlds have 
confided the secret of his interest and desire to hear 
more to his nearest friend or brother) hung upon 
every word which fell from the speaker’s lips, with 
conflicting and not yet convinced feelings, it is true, 
but still with one dominant, overwhelming thought 
rising ever higher and higher, and making itself felt 
and understood with an ever-increasing intensity — 
“ Oh that I knew if these things were true ! Oh ! 
if I could, without doubt or hesitating fear, enter on 
this path to find life everlasting ! ” But they were 
indeed few who were thus touched, and in whose 


THINE FOR EVER! 


99 


hearts there were feelings and desires so worthy of 
the occasion, and so superior to the argumentative, 
cavilling, careless thoughts which had place in most 
of those present. 

There was one to whom this moment was the most 
important of his whole life. With his mind long 
prepared by studious reading of the Blessed Word, 
and with his heart just opening to the light and 
warmth of the love of the Son of God, he had listened, 
at a time when he was ripe for any serious impres- 
sions from without, to the story of a man evidently 
in earnest, and had understood most thoroughly the 
deep unsatisfactoriness of old Narain Dd,ss’s life-long 
quest ; and as Muhkam Chand had gazed on the old 
man’s face, and felt how much he was in earnest 
and how comparatively free he was from the vices 
and evils so common among faqirs, he realised that 
he had seen faqir-liie at its best, and had heard the 
story of its utmost power to satisfy. Yes ; and as 
he pondered over the tale of travel and weariness, of 
privation and suffering, and the eager, craving, long- 
ing, unsatisfied look on the emaciated face, he had 
said within himself, The thirst of the soul can 
never, never be quenched' by even such zeal and 
resolution as these.” And again, when, during the 
little blind boy’s song that morning, he had noted 
one tear after another course slowly down the old 
faqir's face, and had marked well how after those 


100 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


tears there were more rest and calm on the rugged 
features than he had fancied it possible should come 
upon them, he had said in his heart, “There is a 
'power in the words ; there is a something mighty 
about them ; there is the same overwhelming con- 
straining power that there is in the pages of the 
Gospel when I read and re-read them in the solitude 
of my own room. But the words are simple enough ; 
it isn't the words, it is Jesus." 

Later on in the day, too, before he came to the 
meeting, and while affecting to be careless and not 
too much concerned in these matters, he had been 
struck by the quiet and hopeful look on the old 
man's face whenever he referred to the blind child's 
song. 

And now, where was Muhkam Chand ? Apparently 
he was sitting carelessly, like other Hindu boys, on 
the bench in the Christians' Mission-Boom, while all 
the Christians present were kneeling in prayer, and 
while, with perhaps a very aching and anxious heart, 
hearing here and there a laugh and a playful scuffle 
among the boys, and not knowing whether every one 
there might not be hardened and angry at the Chris- 
tians' message, one voice pleaded, “ O Father, give 
Thy blessing, pour out Thy Spirit; let us feel His 
power; send home to some heart all that has been 
said ; save some soul to-night, for Jesus' sake. Amen." 
Some of the boys laughingly said “Amen" in 


THINE FOR EVER! 


lOI 


mockery, but one from the depth of his heart echoed 
the word, and uttered with it the simple vow, “ I 
am Thine for ever ! Tracts with pictures on them, 
and text-cards and leaflets, were freely given away, 
every boy, even the most careless, seeming eager to 
get possession of these scraps of something to read 
in English, and then the meeting broke up. 

It was growing dark as the preacher turned away 
towards his home, and before he had taken many 
steps from the door of the room where the meeting 
had been held he became aware that some one was 
stealthily following him. Pausing for a moment, 
he asked quietly who it was, and Muhkam Chand 
quickly replied under his breath, ‘‘ Oh, sir ! come 
with me, I beseech you, to some quiet place where 
we shall not be noticed ; I have something to say 
to you.’' 

They turned into' the porch of a schoolroom not 
far distant, and the preacher asked, “What do you 
want to say to me, my lad ? 

“ Well, not exactly to you, sir, but to your Saviour, 
I have something to say;” and down went the boy 
on his knees, Christs rejoicing servant gladly under- 
standing in a moment how things were as the words 
broke forth from that full young heart, “Lord Jesus, 
take me as I am. I cannot save myself ; I cannot 
please God. I want Thee ; I love Thee ; I will be 
Thine for ever!” Other prayers were poured out by 


102 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 

Muhkam Chand and by the worker whose sorrow 
over lost souls had thus so suddenly been turned into 
joy over one ; and ere they left that quiet porch 
Muhkam Chand had told his new friend the steps 
by which he had been led to faith in Christ, and had 
convinced him that this was no hasty and immature 
decision, but one which was the result of long seek- 
ing and learning and waiting, and that the dear 
lad had come indeed to Jesus for life and peace. 
And now, what to do next? was the question. No 
wonder the young believer trembled as he thought 
of what might follow. 

“ One thing,” he said, “ is plain. I must not 
delay. There will be no trouble on account of 
age, for it is quite six months ago that my father 
told me from my janam patri that I was fully 
eighteen years old, and so I am legally free to do as 
I like.” 

“ And your wife ? ” asked his friend. 

Oh, she died when we were both children,” said 
the lad ; “ so I shall be saved at least the sorrow 
of having a girl condemned to the miseries and in- 
dignities of being a make-believe widow. It was my 
father’s intention to make another marriage arrange- 
ment for me soon, but so far I am free.” 

He subsequently begged his Christian friend not 
to delay in having him baptized, and said that 
within a few hours he would return to his or to 


THINE FOR EVER/ 


103 


some other Christian's house and openly declare him- 
self a believer in Christ. 

“Of course," he said, “there will be a terrible 
disturbance and fuss, and all sorts of things may 
be done to me. And then I know I must give up 
my beloved brother and parents and all which one 
naturally counts most dear; but it is for Jesus, and 
I will not be afraid to do as He bids me. Come 
what will, I am His for ever." 

Together that night the young evangelist and his 
newly found brother visited one or two Christian 
friends, and, among others, a missionary, who, 
although at first afraid to act quickly in any case, 
felt, after hearing Muhkam Chand's good confession, 
and understanding the length of time he had been 
taught of God Himself in His Word, that it was 
better not to delay, and that the following Sunday 

might be fixed upon as the day for the baptism, 

provided that Muhkam Chand would in the mean- 
time tell his family and friends openly of his in- 
tention to become a Christian. 

At length, with a very happy, light heart, and 
feeling now as if he could venture to face any 

difficulties and dangers, the boy turned his face 

towards his father's house. Every one in the house 
was very much surprised that he should have stayed 
out until ten o'clock, and many were the inquiries 
made as to where he had been and how employed. 


104 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


“ I suppose/’ said his brother rather sneeringly, 
“you have been to the preaching, for, one thing; 
but that is over very early in the evening. Per- 
haps, however, you have had two preachings to-night 
because it is a public holiday ? ” 

Muhkam Chand parried all the questions, and 
prepared to take some food ; but his heart was too 
full, he could not eat. He was feeling moment by 
moment the coming-on of that sorrow and dark- 
ness which must, as a rule, be the lot of all who 
in a Hindu home forsake all to follow Jesus. He 
felt that he could not keep his secret, and that he 
must think as quickly as possible of the best way 
to break it to his family. 

But the more he thought and the more he tried, 
the more utterly impossible did it seem to tell such 
a thing in such a household. What would be the 
effect if he now openly declared that he had begun 
to love, and intended always to follow, the one and 
only Saviour, Jesus Christ? 

Another sneering remark of Nih^l Chand’ s led to 
a few words from their father, which decided Muh- 
kam Chand that open confession then and there 
would not be a wise thing, but that he had better 
first leave home, and afterwards declare to parents 
and brother his great reason. His brother’s remark 
had been to the effect that he wondered what those 
Christians expected to do by their meetings, at which 


THINE FOR EVER! 


105 


they sang praises to One whom they called “the 
Son of God,” and preached about Him as the only 
One able to save men from sin and its punishment. 
He believed a number of boys would go to listen 
to the music and improve themselves in English, 
but he should hope his country-people and co-reli- 
gionists were too sensible to be easily turned over 
to such absurdities. 

Nihd-l Chand’s father replied to his somewhat angry 
and impatient words, “But it is too true, my son, 
that a few do believe in all this preaching, and even 
persuade themselves that the religion of their fathers 
is utterly a mistake, and that only this Man whom 
they call the Saviour can appease for them the 
wrath of God and give them a title to be for- 
given their sins and made holy. Christians have 
an idea that this is done by Him in some sort of 
way as a substitute, and that all which we devout 
Hindus know a man can do for himself really goes 
for nothing — is not counted ! In fact, he might as 
well not have tried to do or be anything. Alas 
that some of our people should be so easily led astray 
by foreigners ! ” 

“But, father,” said Muhkam Chand, “these for- 
eigners have done us nothing but good. Look at 
the railways, books, hospitals, schools, hundreds of 
improvements, advance of all kinds. 

“All very well,” said the goldsmith; “but they 


io6 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


might have given us these things without forcing 
their strange religion upon us.” 

“But it is not forced, father. That is the very 
point about which Government is so particular. In 
no Government school is it allowed to be taught, 
and there has been a promise not to interfere with 
anybody’s religion given by the Queen Empress her- 
self. If, however, some of our people, without any 
compulsion, go and listen to the new teaching and 
believe it, they act independently, and we can never 
say it has been forced upon them.” 

“Nonsense, boy; don’t talk of things you under- 
stand nothing about. I tell you it is a bad thing to 
listen to Christians’ talk, and you had better keep 
away from it as far as ever you can. I could tell a 
tale that would make some of these young fellows 
tremble who are so ready to give ear to such lies. 
It is not so many years ago that a friend of mine 
had a son who must needs go, being of a high Brah- 
man family, and listen to some preaching and begin 
to read the Christians’ Book. The next thing was, 
he was initiated — ‘baptized’ I think they call it — 
made a Christian, I do not know what is done at 
the ceremony, as I should not like to lose caste by 
being present, but I have heard that some beef is 
eaten by the fool who presents himself for the rite, 
and he is made to undergo some other defiling pro- 
cesses, and is pronounced a Christian. Then, of 





“ 1 tell you it is a bad thing to listen to Christians’ talk.”— 106. 










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THINE FOR EVER/ 


107 


course, he goes and eats with Sudras and Chuhras 
and all sorts of people, and so is further degraded. 
Well, my friend was nearly mad with vexation and 
grief ; and although his son managed cleverly to give 
him the slip for a few days, he was caught and 
brought home, and there he was shut up in a small 
room, his hands and feet being tied fast, and through 
a little aperture boiling oil was dropped upon them 
continually until they were blistered all over, and 
he could only crawl with great pain and difficulty, 
when his mother, unable to bear the thought of her 
boy’s sufferings, released him in his father’s absence. 
If it had not been for his mother’s heart being so 
soft, that boy would have stayed in there till he 
died ; but when he got out he made known his case, 
and his father had to give over custody of him, 
because the law considered he had been ‘ cruel. 
Cruel ! Why, dearly as I love my sons, if it had 
been either of mine, mother or no mother, he 
would never have got out, and neither would the law 
have known anything about it. Better for him to be 
as if he had never been, to die quickly by poison 
or anything, than for it to go forth to the world 
that a Brahman had allowed himself to be duped 
into becoming a Christian. No ! if it had been one 
of mine, no one would have seen him alive again, 
or heard his cries for mercy. I hope I know too 
well what is right for a Brahman.” 


io8 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


Muhkam Chand heard and quickly resolved. No 
wonder his young heart quailed. He had thought 
before that he knew what could be done, what might 
happen in that house, to any one who should confess 
Christ, but now he had heard his father’s unequivo- 
cal declaration, and he felt he must at least, in the 
first instance, go out alone and take care not to 
be caught. Afterwards, by letter, he must distinctly 
inform his family of his purpose. 

This resolution made, he went, late as it was, 
to the zenana, and stayed for a few minutes chat- 
ting with his mother. She was dotingly fond of him, 
and he felt as if he was tearing his very heart as 
he made her his last saldm before going forth upon 
a course which he knew she, in her ignorance, would 
regard as a path of degradation and defilement, cut- 
ting him off from her for ever. He next went to 
his room and gathered together a few of his most 
precious books and some other little things such as 
he could carry. His brother called out to know if 
he intended going to sleep that night, and making 
reply that he should first go and see the fagir, he 
stealthily crept away. 

After sitting some time with Narain D^ss, he had 
just begun to wonder in his own mind whether he 
should trust him with his secret or not, when the 
old man asked for an account of the preaching. 
Muhkam Chand told the substance of the address. 


THINE FOR EVER/ 


109 


and that with so much earnestness and feeling that 
at the end of the narration his listener said quietly 
and slowly, but with very marked emphasis, My 
son, you are a Christian ! ” 

The boy began to stammer out a reply, which 
the old faqir imagined was denial, and he quickly 
continued, “Nay, my son, deny it not; and you may 
trust me, whatever you are, I will not betray you. 
But I ask no confidence ; only, if you wish to tell 
me anything, tell it without fear.” 

Muhkam Chand, though by no means quite sure 
of his companion, yet felt so encouraged by all that 
he had noticed in him, that he said at length, 
carefully weighing every word he spoke, “Well, 
Bd-bd, we are nearly strangers, but I think I can 
tell that you are a true seeker after God, and so 
am I. I honour you for all that you are doing, 
with so much earnestness and patience, in order to 
find salvation ; and I believe that some day, and 
perhaps before long, you will be guided to the true 
and only way, and receive the gift of God, which 
is eternal life, through Jesus Christ. Meanwhile, 
I tell you now that I mean to go forth this night 
from my father's house because I have chosen to 
follow Christ, whose blessed life I have studied now 
for many months. There remains no doubt in my 
mind that He is the one and only Saviour. No 
fears are in my heart, for He is with me ; and deep 


no THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


as the sorrow must be of turning away from home 
and kindred, and facing perhaps poverty and hard- 
ship, yet He has given me joy by His sorrow and 
life by His death. And what] are my small trials ? I 
am resolved to follow Jesus.’^ 

All the time that Muhkam Chand was thus ad- 
dressing him, the faqir remained quietly gazing upon 
the fine, open face of the lad, and when he ceased 
speaking he asked, “But what of your father? How 
will he feel ? What will your mother do ? ” 

“Speak not of it,” cried the boy; “rather help 
me by bidding me be of good courage. And, now 
I have trusted you, will you be my true friend? 
You may not believe, or wish to believe, as I do ; 
but you will feel for me, a seeker, like yourself, 
after God and holiness and life.” 

“Tell me,” said the faqir, “what I can do for 
you, and I promise you faithfully and with all my 
heart that I will do it.” 

The boy then told him that he should beg him 
simply to keep his counsel and tell no one what 
he knew, and then to wait on, making some ex- 
cuse to the family and begging a continuance of 
their charity until he should hear some further news 
from himself. 

Very few words were exchanged further, and after 
renewing his earnestly spoken and very sincere pro- 
mise not to betray in any way the young friend 


THINE FOR EVER! 


Ill 


who had by this time quite a warm place in his 
heart, the weary and oft-disappointed faqir parted 
with him, following him to the end of the narrow 
gain by which he found his way to the street, and 
gazing after him with a wistful look which seemed 
to say, “Oh that I too might see some way to 
real rest and satisfaction ! ” 

Muhkam Chand sped away with his heart full 
of conflicting emotions : sorrow that his going must 
mean separation from home and friends and all that 
he held most dear in the world, and joy — strange, 
quiet, restful, real joy, with no doubt about it not- 
withstanding its companion pain — joy that swelled 
higher and higher in the heart of the young fol- 
lower of Jesus the nearer he felt himself to the 
time when he should publicly confess Him before 
men. He feared nothing as he pressed on in the 
stillness and darkness of the late summer night to 
the house of his Christian friend, who had promised 
to be ready to receive him at any moment, and 
ever and anon there welled up from his heart the 
cry, “ Thine for ever ! ” 

It was on the morning of the next day that little 
David heard the news of his becoming a Christian, 
and on that morning, too, that the news spread like 
wildfire through the town that one of the sons of 
Prem Chand, the goldsmith, had gone and joined 
himself to the Christians ; and it was on the 


1 12 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


evening of that day that we saw the schoolmaster 
returning dejected and sad to his home after trying 
to make matters straight for himself at the gold- 
smith’s. 

Muhkam Chand did not fail to write to his father 
a full and particular account of his own conversion 
and resolution to be baptized, adding his earnest 
desire to live and work at home as a dutiful son 
should do, if such a thing might be possible. He 
spoke very affectionately of the bitter grief of leav- 
ing those so tenderly loved, but reminded his father 
that he was of full age, and able to choose for 
himself about becoming a Christian. 

Not one of his family appeared at his baptism 
on Sunday. It was thought by the Christians that 
this was because they really doubted the boy having 
courage so soon to appear in public for the cere- 
mony; while some surmised that possibly they were 
not going to be hard upon him, and did not care 
what he did. But Muhkam Chand knew better 
than that, and he concurred in the opinion that 
they had doubted his really taking the step ; but 
he felt sure that, when they found he had dared 
to do so, they would find some dreadful way of 
trying to make him feel their anger. When, how- 
ever, he stood at the font for baptism there was 
one yearning heart whose sympathetic throbs were 
scarcely hidden by the yellow faqir's cloth of the 


THINE FOR EVER ! 


old man, who, crouching in a corner, listened 
eagerly to every word of the service, so strange, 
so new, and so wonderful to his ears; and one 
fervent cry at least went up to God for light and 
guidance, for peace and satisfaction. 

After the service Muhkam Chand went away with 
Christian friends to spend a happy evening of prayer 
and praise ; and it is no wonder that, among all 
the new songs in which he joined that night, none 
seemed to him more wonderfully appropriate to his 
case than these lines : — 

“ I CAME TO Jesus, and I drank 
Of that life-giving stream; 

My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, 

. And now I live in Him.” 



H 


CHAPTEE VII. 


CALLED IN COURT. 

Fear not ! for in His sight 

Who ever liveth, and to whom shall daily prayer ascend, 

Their blood is dear, and from all wrong and all deceit 
He shall redeem their souls. 

Think not He looketh on unmoved 

The while that taunting heathen cruelly mock 

The child of faith, and cowardly bearers of the Christian name 

Stand by afrai^ to venture bravely 

To defend His cause. Fear not ! He shall redeem 

The suffering souls now witnessing for Him ; 

And by the Blood He shed in love Himself, 

Most precious in His sight shall be their blood. 


Monday morning dawned, and a small number of 
Muhkam Chand’s nearest relatives and friends came 
to see him. They had not really believed that he 
would take the great step of which he had spoken 
in his letter on Saturday, and their contemptuous 
disregard for what they considered a boyish freak 
had resulted in their absence from the ceremony of 
his baptism on Sunday. They had, indeed, from the 
moment of discovering his absence on Friday morn- 
ing, been making and maturing plans for turning 
his thoughts in another direction as soon as they 
should have succeeded in persuading him to return 


CALLED IN COURT. 


115 

home, which, when their first anger and consterna- 
tion had somewhat abated, they fancied would be a 
very easy thing to do. They could not even now 
believe that he had already eaten and drunk with 
Christians, for they imagined him a most strict and 
scrupulous Hindu ; and as they had not the faintest 
idea of the length of time during which his mind 
had been deeply exercised on religious subjects, or 
of the way in which he had applied the whole 
strength of his understanding to the study of the 
Christian faith, or of the precious treasure he pos- 
sessed in the Word of God, they felt sure that he 
was just yielding to a schoolboyish fancy for some- 
thing new, or to some sudden pressure brought to 
bear upon him by Christians when he was foolishly 
excited at their meetings ; and so they comforted 
themselves by supposing that in two or three days 
he would return home to laugh at it all with them. 
Thus they allowed Saturday and Sunday to slip by 
without any very resolute effort to induce Muhkam 
Chand to leave his new friends. On that Sunday 
evening, while the lad was rejoicing and singing 
songs of praise, a Hindu who had been present, and 
witnessed the ceremony of his baptism was sitting 
at the goldsmith’s house telling about it to the 
assembled family. 

And why did you not interfere, friend gold- 
smith?” asked the visitor as soon as he had finished 


ii6 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


his story. “ How came you all to be sitting here 
and saying not a word to prevent such a thing from 
being done? Why, if you had only acted promptly 
yesterday, making a good deal of fuss, and giving 
plenty of trouble to the Christians, especially if you 
had worked upon Muhkam Chand's feelings and 
affections in some way or other, you might have had 
him back and gained time to consider what to do 
with him ; or, failing that, and supposing him to 
have been very obstinate, you might have had a war- 
rant out against those in whose house he is staying, 
and brought them in court for ‘unlawful detention 
of a minor,’ thanks to the good English law ! It 
may not be too late to try that plan now ; though, of 
course, it is a terrible thing that the boy has been 
baptized and broken caste. That will cost you a 
considerable sum of money to set at all right. It is 
a sad matter.” 

Prem Chand looked a little doubtful during part 
of his friend’s speech, and then he drew him aside 
and whispered something in his ear to the effect 
that he would find it difficult now to prove that his 
young son was a minor. 

“Nonsense!” exclaimed his adviser. “Do not tell 
that to all the world ; produce a janam jpatri, and 
get a jpandit to read it for you in court, and it will 
be the easiest thing possible to prove the boy a 
minor.” 


CALLED IN COURT. 


117 

“And when proved ?’’ asked the father, who 
conld see nothing just now but the difficulties of 
the case. 

“ Oh,” said more than one sympathetic adviser, 
“the boy can be brought home and taken to the 
Ganges ; and there the usual cleansing ceremonies 
can be gone through, and the usual dues paid to the 
Brahmans. But, alas ! that you did not save your- 
selves so much trouble and expense by doing some- 
thing yesterday ! Still, do now all that you can, and 
delay no longer.” 

The old faqir was invited to share the confidence 
of the family, and to give such advice as he thought 
proper; and when he saw that they had no suspicion 
of his knowing anything of Muhkam Chand's leaving 
home, he resolved to stay on just as long as they 
made him welcome, that he might, if possible, see 
what would become of the boy, and perhaps get an 
opportunity of doing him a kindness. 

A plan was then made that the goldsmith, with 
his elder son and one or two other members of the 
family, should go early on Monday morning and try 
the effect of persuasion and coaxing and fair promises 
upon Muhkam Chand, and they resolved to leave it 
to another consultation to decide what to do with 
him afterwards, supposing they were so happy as to 
prevail upon him to return home. 

It was unanimously agreed that no show of anger, 


ii8 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


no threats of punishment, should mark this first in- 
terview. Accordingly, very early on Monday morning, 
Prem Chand and his party arrived at the house which 
had been pointed out to them as the one where Muh- 
kam Chand was staying. They were at once cordially 
invited to come in, and urged to see the lad and 
allow him to give them himself his own reasons for 
becoming a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Muhkam Chand made a respectful saldm to his 
father and father-in-law, and then tried to embrace 
his brother. This, however, the latter would not 
allow. The goldsmith began to weep, and to speak 
in very kind and affectionate terms to his son. 

“Did you not receive my letter, father?” asked 
the boy. 

“Yes,” was the reply; “but I never believed that 
what you wrote could be other than some boyish 
freak and nonsense, about which you would change 
your mind as quickly as you seemed to have made 
it up ; and, of course, I entirely discredited your 
statement that you would join yourself with Chris- 
tians by means of their rite. Your whole family is 
simply heart-broken ; your mother is smitten down 
with grief ; your brother is bereaved ; shame and 
sorrow and disgrace have come upon us all ; but 
still we will not upbraid you or punish you. We 
will forgive all if you will only come home now 
and submit, as a dutiful son should, to the neces- 


CALLED IN COURT, 


1 19 

sary purifications, and show us that you are sorry 
for the foolish step which you have been so ill- 
advised as to take, and that you will repay all the 
very heavy expenses which you know must be under- 
taken for you, by never again allowing yourself to 
be drawn away by such false and pernicious doc- 
trines as these to which you have now, in an un- 
guarded moment, so unfortunately agreed/^ 

Muhkam Chand remained, though not unmoved, 
yet quiet and firm during this address and through 
the burst of passionate weeping which followed it, 
and in which the whole party of Hindus joined. 
When at length there was a little quiet he spoke. 

‘‘Dear and honoured father,” he said, “it cannot 
be. I told you, as in duty bound, that I was about 
to join the Christians, and that my baptism would 
take place yesterday in their church. You uttered 
no word to prevent this, and I proceeded to do 
as I had said I would. My Brahminical thread did 
not really proclaim me ‘twice-born,’ since the ever 
wearing of such a thing was only one among many 
absurd and useless ceremonies. I have studied the 
Word of God for a very long time, and by the 
power of that Word I have been indeed ‘born 
again.’ Now I am ‘twice-born,’ and He who has 
given me new life is Jesus Christ, whose I am 
and whom I serve. Oh! let me tell you something 
of Him, of His love and His ” 


120 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


‘‘ Stay, stay ! ” interrupted his brother, almost for- 
getting, in his wrath, the agreement to let no anger 
be shown on this occasion ; “ we do not wish to 
hear you preach. We have come to remind you 
of your duty and your home. We are here not to 
listen to any new ideas about religion (concerning 
which who can teach a Brahman f), but simply to 
assure you that we love you still. This religion 
may be all very well for the English, but it can 
have nothing whatever to do with us ; and deep 
indeed is our grief, my dear brother, that you should 
have yielded so thoughtless an assent to its prin- 
ciples and teachings. But still we love you. We 
want you home, and are willing to bear any ex- 
pense or trouble to re-establish you among us. We 
have no wish whatever to make you unhappy ; we 
are ready to forgive what you have so foolishly done, 
but we all implore you not to disregard what we say. 
Come home now with us, O my dear brother ! with- 
out whom home is so desolate ; ” and once more the 
whole party, led this time by Nihdl Chand, burst 
out into noisy weeping. 

“ If,” added the father when this storm had 
somewhat abated, ‘‘your home is sad and wanting 
in companionship now that your young wife is dead, 
you know that we are at this very time trying to 
find you another. You will not have long to wait 
for your marriage ; only, of course, it will be more 


CALLED IN COURT. 


I2I 


difficult noiv to complete negotiations with any good 
family since people have heard of this wrong step 
of yours. Still, we know such difficulties can be 
overcome, and I will spare no money.’’ 

Many more entreaties and expostulations and pro- 
mises followed, and at length, with tears and prayers, 
the goldsmith clasped his boy in his arms. Christian 
friends waited by, doing nothing at all to influence 
the lad, only lifting up their hearts to God in 
secret prayer for strength and victory for him in 
this hour of sorrow. It is impossible to describe 
the distress of those converts who are compelled 
thus to witness the unhappiness of their friends, 
and who have to withstand affectionate and appa- 
rently fair promises. Many a time a convert has 
been convinced that all was true and that every 
promise would be kept, and some have acted in 
accordance with that persuasion, and been seen and 
heard of no more. 

Prem Chand noticed his boy’s firmness, and at 
length said, “Well, I see you would rather be a 
Christian, so come home with us and continue to 
be our dear, obedient son as before, and we will 
allow you to be a Christian, and if you like you 
shall have a Christian wife, as no doubt one has 
been promised you ; and we will give you no trouble ; 
you can go to your church and do all you wish ; 
only come and live with us.” 


122 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


Another burst of grief followed this speech, and 
all the party agreed that this promise ought to be 
kept, and Muhkam Chand allowed to live as a 
Christian, if only he would come home. 

But the newly baptized follower of Jesus stood 
bravely forward in the midst of his weeping rela- 
tives and said, “ You know it cannot he. Have I 
not been a strict Hindu long enough to know 
whether or not a Christian man can live in a 
Brahman family? But I need not be cut off from 
you if you will let me come and go as a Christian. 
I shall get some employment to earn my living, and 
then I will keep my own little house, and come fre- 
quently to see you all. Do not think, I entreat you, 
that my love is less ; I love you all, and I do long 
to see my mother, but I cannot be blind to the fact 
that Brahmans and Christians can never live to- 
gether. Either you would have to lose caste, or I 
should be obliged to be false to my Master.'' 

“Master!” exclaimed his brother. “Have you, 
then, become any one’s slave ? ” 

“Yes, my brother; I have become the slave of 
Jesus Christ, and He is my only Master.” 

Finding all remonstrances and entreaties of no 
avail to change the purpose of the young Christian, 
the whole party retired for a while to consider what 
they had better do next. During the middle of the 
day, when nothing could be done, and the faqiv felt 


CALLED IN COURT. 


123 


sure that he would not be called to any consultation, 
he went, in spite of the heat of the sun, to pay a 
visit to Muhkam Chand. After a grave saldm, seve- 
ral moments passed without a word being spoken, 
and then the faqir sat down on the mat, and begging 
his young friend to do the same, said, “Well, what 
now ? ” 

Muhkam Chand quietly replied, “ All joy/^ 

“ Are you satisfied ? ” asked the old man, gazing into 
the youth’s eyes with an earnest, searching look. 

“ Quite,” was the steadfast, calm answer. “ I 
thirsted till I came to Christ, but now my thirst is 
quenched.” 

“ I believe you mean it,” said the poor, weary old 
man ; “ but oh that I could believe it absolutely the 
truth for each and all, for every thirsty one, for all 
the dissatisfied ! ” 

“ Of that, too, there is no possible doubt,” said 
the boy, and his face glowed with honest joy at thus 
being able to tell some one else of the peace and 
rest which he had found; “that which has made 
me happy and satisfied can quench your thirst also, 
and give you peace and joy. Jesus Christ is able 
and willing to save you!' 

“But stay,” said the old man; “let us not speak 
of this any further just now. I want to tell you 
that your family will have a pancMyat this day, 
and will talk over all your case, and I believe they 


124 the well-spring of immortality. 


will take some severe measures for compelling you 
to return to your old religion. To their counsels 
they have called me, and I want to know how I can 
best serve you. Confide your plans to me ; I will 
not betray your secrets.” 

“ I have no secrets,” said the boy, “ and as yet I 
have made no plans. I only desire to live for Jesus 
Christ, and, of course, I should be willing to try in 
my dear old home, if I felt it possible ; but, alas ! I 
know too well that it is not; and it is, I need not 
tell you, utterly out of the question for me, a Chris- 
tian, to conform to any of their customs, or to do 
jpuja, or observe any idolatrous festivals, &c. I can- 
not be anything except a Christian.” 

Dear lad ! he spoke bravely, and his heart felt brave 
and strong. Did he forget his fathers story of the 
boiling oil? Perhaps, when he allowed himself to 
think of that and similar cruelties which he knew 
had been practised on those who had left the religion 
of their fathers, he may have felt his heart quail, 
and he may have wondered if he would have the 
courage to face even death for Jesus^ sake. 

The faqir spoke very few more words to the boy, 
and when the Christians living in the house asked 
him questions which seemed to him likely to lead 
to the subject of religion, he abruptly said that he 
must go, and rising and making a saldm to all 
present, turned towards the road and was soon lost 


CALLED IN COURT. 


125 


to sight, leaving on the minds of Muhkam Chand’s 
Christian friends the impression that he was a spy 
on behalf of the goldsmith’s family, with the object 
of persuading the boy, if possible, to leave the faith 
he had so recently embraced. 

On this supposition, they began earnestly to caution 
Muhkam Chand against listening to anything such a 
man might have to say to him ; but Muhkam Chand 
answered, with a quiet smile, Oh, he is all right ; 
he will do me no harm.” 

In the evening a very large gathering of relatives 
and friends might have been seen at the goldsmith’s 
house, among whom the faqir did not fail to appear. 
After much talk and many angry words, and when 
more than one had eagerly and impatiently sug- 
gested an immediate summons in court for the 
Christian in whose house Muhkam Chand had been 
found, it was proposed as a preliminary step to try 
some of the other artifices which persons present 
knew had been successful in similar cases elsewhere. 
It was, accordingly, agreed that some one should go 
at once to Muhkam Chand and give him the sad 
news that his mother had been taken suddenly and 
alarmingly ill, and that the hakims did not expect 
her life to be prolonged more than a few hours at 
the most. The next question was, Who should go 
to carry the false news? The goldsmith glanced 
at the faqir, and then made a sign to Nihd-l Chand, 


126 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


who, quickly understanding it, took the faqir aside 
and begged him to be the messenger. But the 
poor old man pleaded that he felt quite unequal 
for such a task, and he begged to be excused, add- 
ing, however, that he would gladly accompany any 
one else on the errand who would undertake to 
be responsible for carrying the whole plan through. 
Nihdl Chand upon this agreed to go himself, and take 
the faqir as a companion and assistant. 

This being settled, they started together, and on 
reaching the house of Muhkam Chand’s Christian 
friends, were at once shown into the room where 
the lad was sitting trying to study, so as not to 
lose time during the few days that his advisers 
thought it better for him not to attend public school. 
No sooner did Nihdl Chand see his brother than 
he began to howl and lament and smite his breast 
in most distracted fashion. 

“JJac/ hae!” he cried, “to think that anything 
so terrible should have happened ! Our mother is 
dying. A sudden illness has nearly torn her from 
our arms of love ; there is no hope of her life. 
Hae! hae! but she does long for a sight of you, 
her younger son, once more. Come, oh ! come with- 
out a moment’s delay, lest it should even now be 
too late. Hae ! hae ! ” 

The faqir, having been previously enjoined by 
Nihal Chand to take his part in this terrible lament, 



*' Our mother is dying. Come without a moment's delay.”— Page 126 , 





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CALLED IN COURT. 


127 


did indeed come in with a somewhat feeble ^*Hae! 
hae!’' now and then, but at the same time nodded 
encouragingly at Muhkam Chand from behind the 
brother's shoulder; and when Nihal Chand turned 
for a minute to explain to two Christians who had 
come to see what was the matter the terribly 
dangerous state of his sick mother, Narain Dass 
took the opportunity to whisper hurriedly to the 
lad whom he was so anxious to serve, “Not true 
— all well — don't come home ; " and again the faith- 
ful old man stood at Nihal Chand's side in time 
to come in at every suitable pause in the recital 
of the sad story with “iJac/ Aac/" 

Muhkam Chand told his brother at length that he 
could not come thus, but would send some one back 
with him to inquire into the state of his mother’s 
health, and would decide afterwards what it would 
be right for him to do. 

In the end Nihal Chand and the faqir had to 
return to the* goldsmith's house to report that the 
stratagem had not succeeded. 

During the day other and equally disturbing and 
trying attacks were made upon the lad, but the 
longest and most wearisome day passes away at 
last, and, with much thankfulness, Muhkam Chand 
found himself at night left at peace and quietness 
by his family, who perceived that all their ingenuity 
and cunning had failed. 


128 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


The next morning the friend with whom Muh- 
kam Chand was staying received a summons to 
appear in court the following Saturday, and to “ pro- 
duce the infant son of Prem Chand, the goldsmith/' 
A prayerful and anxious consultation was held by 
the little band of Christians, and several came to 
the house where he was staying to offer the newly 
baptized boy advice as to what he had better do. 
Some warmly recommended that the young convert 
should at once go away quietly and keep himself 
in hiding for some time — say a few weeks or months 
— until the anger of his family should have somewhat 
abated, and they should be willing (as, it was urged, 
had often been known to happen in similar cases) 
to allow him to follow his choice and obey the dic- 
tates of his conscience without molestation. 

“ But why run away and hide,” argued others, 
“when Muhkam Chand is of age and at full liberty 
to choose his own religion? He has but to appear 
in court and state his age and his own reasons for 
deciding to be a Christian, and all will be well.” 

Among other advisers was a lawyer who looked 
very wise and important, and to him several turned 
for advice — “ What is your opinion, Babu Dass ? ” 

“Well,” he replied thoughtfully, “it is difficult 
to say how things may turn out. You see, one 
never knows how a case may go. First of all the 
age will be certainly questioned ; and not only ques- 


CALLED IN COURT, 


129 


tioned, but sworn to be much less than it is ; and, 
let me see, my boy, how old do you say you are ? ” 

Muhkam Chand replied in a manly way, “I know 
I am over eighteen years of age, and it will surely 
be impossible for any one to prove me younger.” 

“ Alas ! ” said his questioner, with a lawyer-like 
caution and a quiet, meaning smile, “you do not 
know what can be proved until you try. Sup- 
pose, now, that your own father should swear you 
sixteen ? ” 

“But can such gross injustice ever be allowed in 
an English court of law ? ” exclaimed an English mis- 
sionary who had not been long in the country. 

But the native Christians knew only too well how 
such things are managed, and they could not help 
looking at each other with a good deal of anxiety 
and bewilderment as to how to advise their young 
friend. 

“But, Babu Dass,” said the missionary, “is there 
not some clause about ‘age of discretion,^ owing to 
which, even supposing the lad were apparently proved 
under age, he could yet be declared by the judge 
able to choose for himself?” 

“Ah,” said the lawyer, in a slow, cautious way, 
“ there is such a clause, certainly ; but don’t depend 
on it. Don’t be too sanguine. It all rests with 
the judge, and in a case connected with Chris- 
tianity he is not a bit likely to make any allowance 

I 


130 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


unless a boy said to be a minor seems to him ex- 
ceptionally manly, and” (glancing at Mohindranath 
Chakkarbatty, the schoolmaster) “I should not say 
—should you? — that this is a remarkably discreet 
boy.” 

“Well,” answered Mohindranath, glad to find a 
sympathetic friend, “ it would have been more dis- 
creet to have waited a little before taking the im- 
portant step of becoming a Christian. It is a great 
pity he was hurried into it. There is really nothing 
gained by it, and we are all in this mess.” 

Muhkam Chand heard and wondered. What ! 
were Christ’s own people sorry, then, that he had had 
grace to come to the Saviour, and then to confess 
Him before men ? He felt a pain in his heart ; his 
head sank ; he looked very sad and downcast, and 
for a few moments he could scarcely think. But 
he was cheered by hearing another Christian say, 
“ Allow me to explain. No one hurried this dear 
lad into his decision for Christ. He was brought 
to choose the blessed service of Jesus after a long 
time of earnest study of God’s Word for himself, 
and we should all be rejoicing and giving thanks 
together over the emancipation from the slavery of 
his old life as a Hindu of this brother who is 
now among us in the glorious liberty of the chil- 
dren of God. Let us by no means discourage him ; 
he needs all our help and prayers, and by God's 


CALLED IN COURT. 


131 

grace he will be brought safely through this time 
of trial/' 

‘‘I'm sure I wish you well through it," said the 
lawyer. “I would advise your turning up in court 
all right, and not arranging any running away. 
Once in court, the boy will have to take his chance. 
You have nothing to do but produce him, and the 
judge will decide the case entirely on the ground 
of age, and give an order what is to be done. I'll 
do anything I can for you, though I am afraid that 
will not be much ; but, anyhow, I wish you well 
out of your trouble." 

The lawyer then went home, inviting the school- 
master to walk with him, and soon afterwards the 
remainder of the little company dispersed. 

Alone with his kind host — a native Christian in 
humble life— and with the young evangelist who 
had been the first glad hearer of his decision for 
Christ, Muhkam Chand begged again for their earnest 
prayers that the gracious and merciful Lord would 
so order all the circumstances and events of the 
coming Saturday as to let all turn out for the good 
of His tried child and for His own glory. He con- 
fided to his kind friends much of what he felt in 
the separation from aU his family, and in facing the 
positive dangers which he knew too surely awaited 
any Hindu who forsook the religion of his fathers. 

Those who listened to his confidences knew full 


132 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


well that his fears were by no means groundless, 
and during the week they more than once became 
aware of plots for snatching away the new convert 
on the road to and from church and the evangelistic 
services, from none of which could he be persuaded 
to absent himself. He went bravely everywhere, and 
was even amused because his friends begged him to 
have always with him one or more strong enough 
to help him in case of need. They knew his danger 
better than he did. 

Three or four times during that week he visited 
his little blind friend David, who was so happy he 
scarcely knew how to contain his joy. In that joy 
his mother and sisters were sharers, and when daily 
the good Bibi gathered her three children for prayer 
and praise, Muhkam Chand’s name was earnestly 
and with much feeling remembered. They all longed 
for Saturday to be over, and all prayed that the dear 
lad might be left free to serve God as a Christian. 

Alas that the master of that little household 
should have been a stranger to their joy! Well 
might his anxious wife plead with tears as she knelt 
alone in prayer — “ O gracious Bedeemer 1 give Mm, 
too, to drink of the water which Thou givest, that 
it may be in him a well of water, springing up into 
everlasting life ! ” Deeply did the poor Bibi feel the 
sad want of sympathy shown by her husband in this 
matter of the new convert and his baptism, and 


CALLED IN COURT. 


133 


truly did she mourn that, in her own joy with her 
three children over the happy boy who had so lately 
confessed Christ before men, she was, as it were, 
almost acting against one whom she would have 
delighted to honour in everything. But she felt she 
must honour God at whatever cost ; and always be- 
lieving that the day would surely come when she 
would see her husband drinking deeply of the well- 
spring of immortality, she comforted herself with the 
thought that in those better and happier days she 
would tell him all, and confess how she could not 
in her heart fully honour his every wish while he 
kept aloof from the grandest work on earth, the 
work of making known to perishing heathen the 
wonders of redeeming love. 

On Friday night Muhkam Chand paid a last visit 
to the good Bibi and her three children. For a 
time she read to and instructed them all, and 
then they knelt together in prayer, and finally sang 
several hymns, little David, at Muhkam Chand’s 
request, concluding with his favourite one, “Fve 
found a Friend.” The song ended, the lad rose 
to go, and just then the schoolmaster entered the 
house. 

“Ah!” he said, “I am glad I just happened to 
see you. Please remember, when you are in court 
to-morrow, whatever you are asked, you are not to 
say anything to lead people to suppose that / tempted 


134 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 


you away from your father’s house or made a pro- 
selyte of you.” 

“ Oh no, sir ! ” replied Muhkam Chand, with per- 
haps unconscious sarcasm ; “I am sure I will never 
tell such a falsehood ; for, indeed, sir, you never 
tried in any w^ay to make me a Christian.” 

It was only the simple truth spoken by an in- 
genuous boy, but the schoolmaster felt somehow as 
if he had been hit very hard. 

David’s mother managed to say to Muhkam Chand 
as she closed the door behind him, “Eemember, my 
son, if you are in trouble or danger, run here. This 
is your home whenever you want one, and here you 
shall be in safety and not lack a mother’s love 
and care. God bless you and help you through to- 
morrow.” 

The morrow came, and found the so-called “kid- 
napper” and the so-called “infant” waiting quietly 
in their places in a little room off the court of 
the judge who was to try their case in Kacliery. 
Outside that Kacliery^ seeking shade as best they 
might from the glaring sun, under the scant trees 
or in the crowded verandahs, there were plaintiffs, 
defendants, and witnesses, apparently without number 
or end. It would have puzzled any ordinary ob- 
server to find out what the majority of these people 
meant or wanted as they argued and quarrelled and 
gesticulated and harangued each other. In many 


CALLED IN COURT, 


135 


hands there might be seen a stamped paper held 
in readiness for the drawing - up of some official 
document. It might refer to the disposal of a house 
or a field, to the adoption of a child, or to the 
divorce of a wife. It might be a most trivial or 
a most important case, but the volubility with which 
the holder of such a paper would discuss the merits 
of his whole matter with any one who happened 
to be sitting or standing near him, friend or foe, 
would certainly be no trustworthy guide as to the 
weight of those merits. 

Every now and then a chiiprdssi from one of the 
courts would rush out and frantically “ call on ’’ a 
case, hustling and bustling over the parties con- 
cerned in a manner which made even that fierce 
Panjab day feel hotter; and now the interests of 
several little groups of expectants would be momen- 
tarily centred in that case, but very quickly each 
group would return to its own wrangles and gesti- 
culations and explanations. And thus the day would 
wear on, till all these “small-cause cases” had been 
attended to and settled or postponed ; and in the 
stifling evening some would go away as yet unheard 
who had sat in those noisy, weary, hot precincts 
since early dawn, and had taken no food or rest 
the live-long day. 

Muhkam Chand and his party were soon called 
before the magistrate who was to decide their case. 


136 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 

Numbers of friends had accompanied Prem Chand 
to the court, and, of course, they were very bustling 
and talkative, putting many questions to each other, 
and to strangers too, and delivering themselves of 
many profoundly learned opinions as to the folly of 
a minor venturing to wish to change his religion, 
adding, of necessity, many declarations of what would 
certainly have been the result had the boy been 
theirs ! Why, they would have suspected things 
long ago ; would have watched and warned the boy ; 
and, if needful, would have sent him far enough 
away to some relative or friend to get him out of 
the reach of Christian influence. What had Prem 
Chand been thinking about, with his eyes shut ! 
It behoved people to have their wits about them 
now-a-days, when the nets of Christians were spread 
everywhere. But there, this unfortunate matter 
having occurred, it was no use fretting ; the thing 
was to act. The boy was, of course, under age ? Oh 
yes ! there were jpandits there to prove that, and 
many a sly wink and nod of the head might have 
been noticed as these bigoted old Hindus chuckled 
together over the certainty of the boy’s being proved 
a minor. 

The vexatious part of it all is,” said one, “ that 
he has been baptized.’^ 

‘‘Yes,” said another; “and doubtless he has eaten 
beef.” 


CALLED IN COURT, 


137 


“Oh yes, of course,” chimed in a third. “Why, 
that is a part of the ceremony.” 

“These matters will not get set right again with- 
out an enormous expenditure of money,” was the 
opinion of one old Icapra-wala with a hard, money- 
loving face. 

“ Oh, never mind that ; the goldsmith will, of 
course, spend anything,” said another, whose heart 
had not been quite so hopelessly eaten out by the 
greed of gain. “What, after all, is money compared 
with a son ? ” 

“How much is it likely to cost altogether?” ques- 
tioned another bystander. 

Several who were learned in such matters began 
to run hastily over items of expense, as journeys to 
Ganges, numbers of cows for the Brahmans, num- 
bers of anna-pieces to be paid for prayers, at an 
anna each, some prayers requiring to be repeated 
thousands of times, meals for the Brahmans, feasts 
for the poor, ghi, oil, rice, &c., for temple offerings ; 
many speaking at once and interrupting each other 
dreadfully, while all who had nothing more clever to 
say frequently broke in with, “ Ram, Rdm,^^ &c, 

“ Silence ! ” 

The case was called on, and very briefly stated, 
and a Hindu lawyer with a most wicked face was 
soon sarcastically plying Muhkam Chand with ques- 
tions. But the magistrate interposed — “ Order ! ” 


138 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


Order in small -cause courts in India seems to 
the unaccustomed ear and eye of the casual visitor 
to be one of those things about which there is more 
than a doubt whether they will come when they are 
called. But by dint of making a great deal of noise 
himself, and bringing his fist down upon the table a 
good many times, the magistrate succeeded in keep- 
ing sufficient order to ensure a hearing of the dif- 
ferent parties concerned. He then remarked that 
the case was one of the simplest kind ; the boy had 
left home without the consent of his father, and had 
received baptism and stayed in the house of some 
Christian ; that he had now been produced by order 
of the court ; and he, the magistrate, must say he 
was glad that the Christians had been wise enough 
thus to produce him when required ; but as the 
father asserted himself able to prove the boy's 
minority, he hoped that there would be no fuss 
made about his going away quietly with his family 
and friends. 

Muhkam Chand, having been given leave to speak, 
said bravely, “ But, sir, I am not a minor ; and I can 
only go with my father on condition of being allowed 
full liberty to live as a Christian should." 

Looks of anger and bitter hatred were not enough 
at this juncture to satisfy the hearts of the excited 
Hindus, who were earnestly leaning forward and 
stretching their necks to hear every word spoken by 


CALLED IN COURT, 


139 


Muhkam Chand ; those looks of hatred began to 
be once more accompanied by angry, eager words 
as the swaying crowd with turbaned heads pressed 
nearer, and seemed, every man of them, as though 
to carry the brave boy off and tear him limb 
from limb would be the greiatest delight and honour 
possible. 

“ Silence ! ’’ 

The magistrate again quieted down the uproar, and 
the case went on. 

“ You say you are not a minor, Muhkam Chand ; 
and, of course, if you could prove that point you 
would be free by law to go where you liked, and 
to hold any religious opinions in the world ; but 
the question of your age must be referred to your 
father.” 

Prem Chand was accordingly called and ques- 
"tioned as to the age of his son, whom he promptly 
and unhesitatingly declared to be fifteen years of 
age ! 

An expression of amazement passed over the face 
of the missionary, who had never before witnessed 
such a scene, and he was about to speak impetu- 
ously, when a friendly lawyer warned him that it 
would do no good, but, on the contrary, damage 
the cause. “Leave the case entirely to justice,” he 
whispered. 

“Justice!” exclaimed the missionary under his 


140 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


breath, and with undisguised sarcasm in his tone. 
“Where is justice?” 

The case proceeded. A pandit was put forward 
as a witness by Prem Chand, and he affected to read 
the boy’s janam patri, which had been placed in his 
hands by the wicked-looking Hindu lawyer. He put 
on a very wise and mysterious air while reading, and 
ultimately declared Muhkam Chand to be just fifteen 
years old. 

On the magistrate asking Muhkam Chand if he 
had anything to say, he replied that he should like 
his janam patri to be read by some other pandits 
who should be appointed then and there by the 
magistrate. This was agreed to, and two learned 
men were soon putting their heads together over the 
document. 

As any one at all acquainted with such matters in 
India could easily have foretold, the decision of those 
grave pandits was, that fifteen years was certainly the 
outside of the age of Muhkam Chand. 

Of course, a smile of exultation passed over the 
face of every Hindu present as the poor lad was 
asked by the magistrate what he had to say to that, 

Muhkam Chand begged to say that, in all pro- 
bability, the janam patri was one borrowed or 
written for the occasion, and that it could not be 
his if it made him out to be only fifteen. He 
would appeal to the Government school register. 


CALLED IN COURT. 


141 

where it would be found that at the age of nine 
years he was first enrolled as a scholar, and that 
the date of his first term at school would be found 
to be between nine and ten years back. 

There was some excitement in court when this 
statement was made, and the goldsmith held a 
hurried consultation with the Hindu lawyer, who 
whispered a few words, with many nods of the 
head, to a brother lawyer, and then asked permis- 
sion to speak. 

Leave being granted, he said, “It seems to me 
not at all worth while to postpone this case just 
to make such a very unimportant inquiry. School 
registers are often untrustworthy, and it is not even 
certain that access to the books would be permitted. 
In addition to these considerations, we have the un- 
deniable fact before us that the boy’s janam patri, 
as read by competent witnesses now present, proves 
him only fifteen years of age; and I am further 
able to assure the Court, on behalf of my client, 
that the boy will have a most kind reception at 
home ; no strictness will be shown to him, no re- 
proach will be uttered. He will receive his old 
place as younger son in the household just as if 
nothing had happened ; and should he wish to con- 
tinue a Christian, his father will put no obstacles 
in his way. Two well-known Hindu gentlemen are 
prepared to be sureties for this, and to look after 


142 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


the boy’s interests, and duly report the case to this 
Court in the event of any harshness or unkindness 
being shown.” 

“There, now,” exclaimed the magistrate; “what 
more do you want, my boy ? ” 

“ Sir,” replied the poor lad, “ I would rather not 
go home.” 

“But I am not going to ask you if you would 
rather. I am going to give you an order to go 
with your father ; and I hope you will be a good 
boy and go at once, and not be so foolish as to 
make me obliged to punish you for contempt of 
Court.” 

“ Punish, sir ! ” was the quick answer with a bright 
face. “Does that mean sending me to prison, sir? 
Oh, do send me to prison ! I do not fear that. It 
is an honour to he punished for Christ’s sake.” 

“ Come, come,” said the magistrate ; “ don’t you talk 
about things you cannot understand. You’re proved 
a minor, and you must go home with your father; 
but you need not be afraid. He is going to be 
as indulgent to you as ever, and if any one hurts 
you he’ll be punished. Now, do as you’re told, like 
a good hoy.” 

“But, sir ” 

It was of no use for the dear lad to raise his 
voice. He was overwhelmed by the numbers of 
Hindus, who speedily pressed around him and put 


CALLED IN COURT. 


143 


a wide barrier of their threatening, angry faces 
between him and his missionary friends, and bore 
him, by the sheer force of their own united move- 
ment, towards the door. He tried to struggle back 
to where the little Christian party stood, bewildered 
and in uncertainty what to do next. A scene would 
have ensued if he had obeyed the promptings of 
his brave heart and fought his way back ; but the 
order rang out in a loud official voice, “ Clear the 
court ; bring on the next case,’^ and the whole crowd 
of Hindus, with the smaller company of Christians, 
were unceremoniously hustled from the place. 

“But the Lord reigneth!” said a Christian in an 
exulting voice in the verandah. 

Does He?^^ sneered the Hindu lawyer, whose 
curiosity had brought him to the door to see what 
would happen to the boy. 

“Yes; and we are on the winning side,^^ was 
the reply. 

As the Christians drove away through the fierce 
sun they looked hither and thither for the brave 
lad, Muhkam Chand, but he was nowhere to be 
seen, and with sad hearts they returned to their 
homes. What would become of him ? They trembled 
as they thought of possibilities, and their only com- 
fort was in continual prayer for his release, and for 
such a renewed blessing upon his soul that in his 
time of trial and suffering, however long it might 


144 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


last, the words might be fulfilled in his experience 
for God^s glory — 

‘‘The water that I shall give him shall be 

IN HIM A WELL OF WATER SPRINGING UP INTO EVER- 
LASTING LIFE.” 





CHAPTEE VIII. 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 

And see we here 

The Spring of life immortal ? Now will I 
Stand in these holy precincts and look on 
The while these multitudes throng past, — will know 
The utmost of their need by looking in, within 
My own immortal spirit’s inner place 
Of silence ! Thus discerning what they crave, 

By knowledge of the thirst of this my soul — 

Learn would I also what the utmost power 
To satisfy of this so far-famed spring. 

What can it bring or do which touches heart 
And life with magic wand of comfort, fills 
The empty voids, and heals the sores, and calms 
The fear of sin-struck men, who hasten here 
To find relief ? And while I ask, I watch 
These crowds who now with serious, earnest look 
Press forward to their evening worship, cast 
Their offerings on the silk-spread floor, prostrate 
Themselves in presence of the holy Book, 

Lay reverent hand upon the marble threshold. 

And turn away (the rites performed) unsatisfied I 
Again I look within, and know that grace 
Has granted me (not for my own deserts. 

For then had many in this earnest crowd 
Been chosen rather !) to know the blessedness 
Of carrying in my heart, for ever glad. 

For ever satisfied — the Well of Life! 

And while my soul sends up to Him a song 
Of praise and joy, His love constrains my vow 
That heart and life henceforward I will give 
To the blest work of telling to these crowds 
Of thirsty ones. that Jesus satisfies: 

He is the Spring of Immortality ! 

145 


K 


146 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


The faqir had not failed to be present at the court 
on the day when the case of Muhkam Chand had 
been tried and decided. He was in a very anxious 
state of mind, scarcely knowing what to think, what 
to believe. He had seen enough of the dear, brave 
lad to feel no doubt that he, at least, was very happy 
in his new faith ; and he had conceived a great 
affection for the boy, and began to feel as if he 
could not bear to be parted from him again. The 
long-tried, desolate, weary heart had found at length 
something to love; and, even more than the poor 
old man realised, this happy, ardent young life had 
intertwined itself with his own, and the boy had 
crept into the place in his affections which had been 
so long empty. Not that Narain Hass was as yet 
wholly convinced that the ardent young professor of 
a new faith was right; on the contrary, he would 
often sigh to himself over the step, which seemed 
to him to have been so hastily taken, by which all 
this trouble had come about, and in consequence of 
which, no matter how much money might be ex- 
pended, and in spite of all efforts which might be 
made, the boy could never again be entirely re- 
conciled to his distressed family or recover his stand- 
ing as a pahJca Hindu. “But, on the other hand,” 
the old man would reason with himself, “he found 
no rest or satisfaction for his soul in the religion 
of his fathers, and can I blame him for feeling out 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


147 


after God in every possible direction ? Have I not 
done it myself? Have I not travelled and toiled and 
prayed and fasted, and found, after all these years, 
no satisfaction ? Have I not honoured the VedaSy 
carefully repeated the mantras, visited sacred rivers, 
afflicted my body while observing rules with regard 
to painful positions in holy places where I have 
stayed, consulted faqirs of devout and austere life, 
whose asceticism has been the wonder and admira- 
tion of more ordinary mortals, and yet found myself 
drawing near to the end of this stage, this weary 
and disappointed period of my existence, without 
peace and satisfaction of mind ? This dear lad seems 
now satisfied and happy; might I have found all 
of which I have been in quest, if I had sought it 
in the Book of the Christians and in fellowship 
with them?^' He would talk thus with his own 
heart, and then try to put away all thought on the 
subject; for joining the Christians had for him a 
meaning naturally born of his religious training 
and lifelong devotion as a Hindu, which made 
him for the present utterly unable to see anything 
but weakness and degradation in embracing such 
a faith. 

So the poor old man was “tossed about with many 
a conflict, many a doubt;” while holy humility and 
triumphant faith had not as yet come in to lead him, 
just as he was, to the “Lamb of God.” 


148 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


No sooner was the scene in court ended than he 
made his way with all speed to the house of the gold- 
smith. On his arrival he found that the family had 
already returned from court, and all were gathered to- 
gether, with many friends and acquaintances, in one 
of the open spaces of the house. Many inquisitive and 
not a few officious neighbours were standing about 
in the galli, and even in the wider hdzdr near there 
was quite a little crowd. Each eagerly discussed all 
that had happened, and there was such a Babel of 
voices that it was not possible for any one person 
to be heard by the rest. Notwithstanding this, each 
tried to make his own sentiments known and under- 
stood, and each had what he considered a learned 
opinion to offer on the subject in hand. 

The faqir pressed through the crowd, and entering 
the goldsmith's house, was soon seated among the 
many relatives and friends who surrounded Muhkam 
Chand. 

The boy looked tired but not unhappy, and on the 
entrance of poor old Narain Dass a smile of pleasure 
passed over his face. 

The family scarcely seemed to know what to do 
next ; they had been to court and gained their point, 
but now they had to face some anxious problems, 
and as they sat thinking over these there were far 
less confusion and talking than among the crowd 
outside. Every now and then some neighbour would 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


149 


look in and address a few words to the goldsmith ; 
some who were previously acquainted with all the 
circumstances would say, “Well, brother, so you 
have been successful in getting back your son ? and 
others, who had not before fully understood how 
matters were, being perhaps from a distant part 
of the town, or even strangers from neighbouring 
villages who happened to be passing by, and who 
had not been able to satisfy their curiosity by ques- 
tioning the people in the galli, would ask, “What 
is the matter?^’ and after hearing as much of the 
story as the jaded and not very happy Prem Chand 
or his elder son cared to tell them, they would 
glance round the place, look with scorn on Muhkam 
Chand, and depart saying, “ Ram, Ram ! ” or, if they 
happened to be Mohammedans, “ Tauhd! Tavbd!'' 

Doubtless they were soon absorbed in far more 
pleasing and engrossing business in the hdzdr, and 
thought no more of the goldsmith and his trouble. 
The day wore on ; the numbers of inquisitive visitors 
and neighbours gradually decreased ; the family whose 
affairs had afforded this little extra excitement and 
amusement or interest was left in peace and quiet, 
and serious indeed began to be the question what 
was to be done with the boy whom father and brother 
had been so exceedingly anxious to bring again to 
his home. He was hungry and thirsty ; so were they 
all. Food must be prepared, but he could no more 


ISO THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


be allowed to touch their eating or drinking vessels ; 
and, in fact, until he had been purified it was 
impossible for any of them, without defilement, to 
have anything to do with him. He was left at a 
safe distance from their cooking place and utensils, 
and while one ate the rest carefully watched him. 
An earthen vessel, such as is used by the sweeper 
caste, was then procured, and some one placed it 
near him and filled it with water while standing 
at a good distance from anything so defiling as a 
Christian ! Some food was thrown to him by his 
once affectionate brother, with the epithet ‘‘Chris- 
tian dog ! 

“Alas!"’ thought the faqir, “is this the kindness 
promised and guaranteed in court to-day, upon the 
understanding of which the boy was given up to his 
father? But, of course, I know it always must be so 
in this sort of case in our good Hindu families.” 

The quiet, peaceful look on the lad^s face struck 
him wonderfully, as he thanked his brother for the 
food, and then, with an expression of gratitude to 
God, drank water from the earthen cup which pro- 
claimed his degradation to the level of the outcast 
sweeper. 

The faqir resolved to tarry a few days to see what 
would become of Muhkam Chand, and how the 
family would settle the difficult questions where to 
keep him, how to effect his thorough purification. 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


151 

how to ensure his not leaving them again, and 
meanwhile — how to feed him ! 

The high-caste Hindu who has been baptized and 
has eaten with Christians is never really restored to 
all the privileges of a Hindu, never regarded by his 
family (if they be strict) as wholly and thoroughly 
cleansed ; hence, in a successful attempt to get back 
a member of the family who has become a Chris- 
tian, they bring upon themselves great expense and 
an infinite amount of trouble and annoyance in all 
the relations of life and in all dealings with others 
of their caste, as well as in all religious cere- 
monies, See. 

This is the case even if the person be an apostate 
from the Christian faith, and quite as eager as his 
friends about regaining his position as a Hindu; 
but if they are using force when they have every 
reason to know that he is at heart a Christian, and 
only kept from rejoining Christians as long as his 
relatives can be sufficiently clever and watchful to 
prevent his going away, while he never lends him- 
self in any way to the means they employ for un- 
doing (as they consider) his baptism, and restoring 
him as far as may be to the privileges and rights 
of Hinduism, the case becomes immeasurably more 
difiicult, and there is no end of the expense and 
trouble to which a Hindu family under such circum- 
stances will be put. 


152 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 

A few days passed away. The goldsmith tried 
every argument which he thought likely to have any 
avail with his son; and many learned jpandits, as 
well as relations and friends of every degree, visited 
and argued with the boy. All attempts to make 
him willing for any ceremony of purification having 
failed, and his resolution apparently growing stronger 
with opposition and argument, his imprisonment and 
treatment in general began to be more severe. The 
faqir saw the chain of cruelty and persecution tighten- 
ing day by day, and more and more his heart was 
drawn towards the brave, calm boy, who alike to 
threats and promises, to heartrending representations 
of his mother’s ill health and probable early death 
in consequence of his defection — a specious inven- 
tion — and to repeated appeals to the antiquity and 
holiness of the Vedas and the reverence with which 
he ought to regard the religion of his fathers, only 
unfalteringly answered, “I have found salvation^ and 
I am henceforth the willing slave of Him who saved 
me. He can make me so strong that I shall not 
fear death, and He will never leave me nor forsake 
me ; and if I could only live among you as a Chris- 
tian, I am sure I could promise to be your affectionate 
and obedient son and brother.” 

Poor boy! he knew too well it could not be; it 
was hoping against hope to expect that as a follower 
of Christ he could ever remain an inmate of that 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


153 


Hindu home. As long as Hindu customs, thought, 
and religious feeling are what they are, it is simply 
impossible for any Christian to be a member of a 
Brahman family. 

In the case of Mohammedans the spiritual danger 
to a young Christian living as one of the family 
would be great indeed, but there would be no im- 
possibilities as to his food and companionship, and 
the relations would lose no caste by having a Chris- 
tian son and brother among them ; but with Hindus 
it is utterly different, contact with Christians, and 
especially eating with them, being defiling in the 
extreme. 

Muhkam Chand’s father was very much troubled 
and worried by his relatives as to what he was going 
to do, while pandits and Brahman priests showed 
much anxiety regarding the steps to be taken for 
ceremonial purification, the carrying out of which 
would of necessity bring not a little wealth to some 
among them. 

Prem Chand became more and more wretched the 
more he consulted with and was questioned by Brah- 
mans, and at length he was so moody and sullen 
that the fagir and his elder son began to fear for 
his health and reason, and they both urged him to 
act in some way so as at once to set his mind at 
rest. 

Nihal Chand advised a journey to Benares, with as 


154 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 

expensive, and therefore efficacious, cleansing cere- 
monies as could possibly be effected by the family, 
into compliance with which he declared Muhkam 
Chand must simply be forced. The faqiPs advice 
was different. He was for allowing Muhkam Chand 
more liberty, and showing him much love, deferring 
for a time any expensive ceremonies, which, he very 
fairly argued, would be all only so much waste if 
Muhkam Chand remained in the end so determined 
to be a Christian, and took the first opportunity of 
publicly announcing his opinions as unchanged by all 
his father’s persuasions. 

“This,” said Narain Dass, “you know he can very 
well do as soon as he begins to show his age a little 
more and make it evidently an indisputable fact that 
he has attained his majority; for, of course, he is 
really over eighteen years of age already.” 

To this the goldsmith murmured a sad assent. 
Yes, his age could certainly not long be disputed ; 
and, besides, if he found means to go to court and 
state his views, and complain that during these few 
days he had been kept a prisoner in his father’s 
house, the law would set him free to do as he 
liked. 

Prem Chand was terribly puzzled, and towards 
evening he went to consult two Brahmans whose 
opinion he had sought before, always with the result 
that he came home heavy-hearted and in great dis- 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


155 


tress. Narain Dass questioned Nihal Chand as to 
what advice these Brahman priests had given, hut he 
appeared to know nothing, and Narain Dass was left 
to draw his own conclusions. His mind, as he lay- 
on his bare chdrpaie, thinking and wondering, re- 
verted to his childhood’s days, and he seemed to feel 
again the same kind of indescribable horror as that 
which had taken possession of him when he had 
missed his new-born little sister and heard his young 
mother’s desolate cry ; while somehow or another 
the fancy grew upon him that the goldsmith’s look 
when he returned from his visits to these particular 
pandits bore a strange resemblance, in its settled, 
horror-stricken despair, mingled with bitter resolu- 
tion, to that of his own father on the day of the 
murder of that hapless female infant ! The faqir 
pondered, and his heart grew more and more heavy 
as the thought took shape that possibly the wretched 
father was being persuaded to take a terrible way 
out of what he considered his difficulty and disgrace. 

Could it be ? ” he questioned over and over again. 
“Yes, yes ; it is only too possible,” was always the 
answer he returned to himself. The next question 
was. What should he do? Though he was by no 
means prepared to accept at once all Christian teach- 
ing, he was day by day more deeply impressed with 
what he saw of one Christian life, and more warm 
grew his sympathy with the boy as he witnessed his 


156 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


patient endurance of cruel taunts and indignities ; 
while less and less did he feel in touch with the 
rest of the family as he saw the unreasoning enmity 
with which they persecuted the lad. 

After much anxious thought the old faqir matured 
to the best of his ability a little plan for his own 
action, and then lay waiting the coming home of 
Prem Chand. He soon came, looking heavy-hearted 
and most miserable, and with him the two Brahmans. 

‘‘Friend goldsmith,’^ said the faqir, “excuse my 
interrupting you now when you have apparently im- 
portant business in hand, but I am wishing to con- 
tinue my journey at daybreak, and am unwilling to 
leave your house without an expression of gratitude 
for having so long eaten your salt. I mourn very 
much that I can render you no help in the sorrow- 
ful state of your family. What course do you pro- 
pose to adopt?” 

Narain Dass saw quick glances pass between the 
Brahmans and the goldsmith as the latter answered, 
“Ask me nothing. My sorrow, in all its depths, is 
not such as I can confide even to a holy faqir like 
yourself, father. You see but the outside ; you cannot 
know what misery there is in my heart. But you 
do know full well that the gods are not to be lightly 
angered, and a Hindu father must remember that he 
is not only a father, but also a Hindu : the claims 
of religion come first ; the sentiments of human affec- 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


157 


tion must be considered only subordinate to them. 
Enough ! May the gods help and favour me in my 
present distress ; and do you, revered father, not fail 
to invoke a blessing for one so unworthy as I am 
of the remembrance of one of such eminent sanctity 
as yourself!” So saying, he made a respectful 
saldm to the old man, and disappeared with his 
two Brahman friends inside the large court of his 
house. 

Some time passed before the faqir could make up 
his mind to follow, and just as he had taken up his 
w^allet in order to make the excuse, if noticed, that 
he wanted some food, the servant who always cooked 
the meals came out grumbling, and saying that he 
had to go to a hdzdr nearly a mile away to fetch 
some particular kind of ghi. 

‘‘ Nay, do not grumble,” said Narain Dass. “ See, 
if you will be quick and bring also for me some 
sweetmeats, which I shall accept from you with 
much pleasure, I will sit with you, and give you a 
blessing on this the last night of my stay in this 
place.” 

‘‘Nay, but are you, then, going away?” questioned 
the man. “Then must I bring some offering for so 
holy a father, and you will honour me by remaining 
in the inner court, where, when all the family are 
gone to sleep, I alone remain with that Christian dog, 
and have to see that he does not get away.” 


158 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


‘‘But where, then, is your brother, who usually 
remains all night to help you and keep you com- 
pany ? ” 

“ Oh, he has fever, and I fear to tell Prem Chand 
anything, for I like not having strange men called 
in his place. If, therefore, he inquires to-night, I 
shall say, ‘ This holy faqir will keep me company/ 
But now I must indeed go, for they will be wanting 
the ghi and other things.” 

“For what are you fetching the ghif” asked the 
faqir. 

“ Oh, it is for offerings to the Brahmans, who be- 
fore leaving the house this night will do jpilja in the 
room where once that Christian dog used to sleep. 
They will watch in that room and do jpuja all night, 
so I have heard. I believe it is to propitiate the 
deota of the spot where the foolish boy first began 
to read Christian teaching. Alas ! what misery has 
come upon this house ! ” 

The servant went on his errand, and the faqir felt 
more than ever certain that his worst suspicions were 
only too well founded. He crept towards the inner 
court and hid himself in a dark corner, from which 
he could see all over the court and the cookhouse, 
and also could keep in view the door of the room 
in which Muhkam Chand was. 

In the cookhouse were the Brahmans, and Prem 
Chand was not to be seen. The two priests spoke 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR, 


159 


scarcely at all to each other, and only now and then 
muttered a mantra. One of them was busily pre- 
paring something over the fire; the other sat on his 
heels looking on. 

At length one asked, “Will Prem Chand not come 
back ? '' 

“Not Acre,” replied the other; “his heart is melt- 
ing, and he has not the resolution to know any 
more. Presently we shall go and perform jpilja 
until dawn in the room upstairs, and you may be 
quite sure none of the family will come near this 
part of the house until we first return at about seven 
in the morning to do pllja to Shiv.” ^ 

So the faqir found out exactly what he wanted to 
know. 

Shortly after this the two Brahmans put a small 
quantity of cooked rice into the earthen dish used 
by no one in the house except poor Muhkam Ghand, 
and then they retired to a little distance in the court, 
after most carefully washing the vessel in which the 
cooking had been done. When the servant appeared 
they blamed him for his delay, although, truth to tell, 
it had suited their purpose very nicely. The man 
made some excuse, and then asked them if he should 
take upstairs the things he had brought from the 
hdzdr, in order that the master of the house and his 


1 The god of death. 


i6o THE WELL‘SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


elder son might present it to them for doing pilja. 
They agreed, but told him the boy Muhkam Chand 
had been calling for his evening meal (which was not 
true), and that he had better give it to him first. 
They keenly watched him place some more rice on 
the earthen plate and take a chupatti and some 
water and go to the door of the small room where 
the boy was. He placed the plate inside and poured 
water out of his own brass lota into the earthen 
one of the lad, and then he carefully secured the 
door with a chain, and taking the things he had 
brought from the hdzdr, he made a low reverence to 
the Brahman priests, and was proceeding to show 
them the way upstairs, when they began to ask him 
questions about the boy’s state of mind and about 
his health, keeping him waiting some time, and at 
length desiring him to ask Muhkam Chand whether 
he had enough for his evening meal. The reply 
was, that as yet he had not finished his food, but he 
would not require more, and he thanked the servant. 

Narain Ddss was getting beside himself with ten'or 
lest the boy should finish all the rice, when he must 
certainly eat that which had been placed first on 
the plate by the priests, and which the faqir had 
not the slightest doubt contained some deadly poison. 
Oh that they would go upstairs ! They went at last, 
and in a minute his aged limbs had carried him 
tottering to the little closed door. It was no time 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. i6i 

for the boy's flight ; the servant would return directly, 
and the outside world was still awake. No ; all the 
faqir could do now was to put his lips close to a 
crack in the ill-fltting door and say, Eat no more; 
it is poisoned, it will make you ill; try not to let 
yourself go to sleep." Narain Dass regained his post 
of observation just as the servant returned to the 
court. After a few moments he came forward and 
asked for some food, presenting his wallet as usual. 

“ And now," he said, “ I will come very soon to 
sleep here, for I am tired." 

The servant began to eat his own evening meal, 
and then, when he had flnished and cleaned the eat- 
ing and drinking vessels, he fetched two chdrjpaies 
and placed them in the court near each other. The 
faqir came and lay down on one, and the man, 
having placed a small chirdg in a niche in the hall 
and humbly desired the faqir's blessing, threw him- 
self on the other, and was soon asleep. 

The moments seemed like hours to the poor old 
man, who was tremblingly eager to be actively doing 
something for his young friend. Would any one 
come from upstairs to see whether the drug had 
taken effect? No; the Brahman priests had spoken 
very confldently about the whole matter. Prem Chand 
was not likely to come ; and as for them, they would 
be doing p'tija all night — except when they were 

asleep. Deep, heavy breathing from that small, close 

L 


i 62 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


room warned him that there had been some effect 
from the poisonous dose, and that to get the boy 
out into the open air was now his most important 
work. He trembled to think that even now he 
might be too late ! Presently he ventured on a 
prayer to One whom he had never addressed before, 
and like a child he whispered, 0 Jesus Christ, he 
does love Thee ; if Thou dost love the poor lad, save 
him now ! ” Then, rising and gently removing the 
chain, he opened the door of the temporary prison; 
and as he opened it the light from the little chirdg 
fell on the lad's face, and showed that, though his 
sleep was heavy, it was not yet hopelessly deep. 

‘‘ If I were only young and strong ! " sighed the 
old man. 

But without wasting another moment in vain re- 
gret he roused Muhkam Chand, who alarmed his 
kind friend by at once beginning to talk. Quieting 
and soothing while he wakened him, he half led, half 
dragged, the stupefied, stumbling boy across the court. 
The servant stirred not, and the two were soon in 
the outer court, from his little room on one side of 
which the faqir took his staff and an extra piece of 
cloth which he sometimes wore, but which now he 
wrapped round his nearly naked companion, and in 
two or three minutes more they were both in the galli. 
It was the darkest hour of night, just before dawn, 
and it was the quietest, too, for no one was stirring. 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 163 

It was exceedingly difficult to keep Muhkam Chand 
on his feet, and the faqir had very little power to 
help him, while the poor boy often seemed to lose 
consciousness of his circumstances and to stumble on 
like one in a dream. Narain Dass was very much 
afraid that daybreak would find them still in the 
streets, and the thought of Muhkam Chand's danger 
seemed to give power to his aged frame as he made 
for the house of the Christian with whom he had 
seen the boy just after his baptism. To his great 
thankfulness, they arrived before dawn, and having 
without any difficulty roused the inmates, who were 
sleeping in the open court, the faqir called for 
help, and in a few moments Muhkam Chand was 
lying on one of the chdrpaies ; while the old man, 
after entreating the Christian Babu to close and 
fasten the door, attempted an explanation of this 
sudden appearance, and then fell nearly senseless 
on the ground by the side of the boy whom he 
had spent all his little strength in saving. 

Measures were promptly taken for the restoration 
of Muhkam Chand and his deliverer; but it was 
a long time before the lad began to rally from the 
effects of the opiate, of which he had taken enough 
to throw him into a very deep sleep, though, hap- 
pily, in consequence of the sagacious old friend's 
timely interposition, not a fatal dose. 

As the day wore on, and Narain Ddss rested 


i 64 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 

near the young Christian, to whom now he felt 
bound by a closer tie than ever, friends dis- 
cussed the best course of action for the safety of 
the convert. 

Some were for prosecuting the father, who had 
so evidently been a party (according to the faqiPs 
story) to the attempt to poison his own son, and 
thereby had broken faith with the magistrate before 
whom he had promised to treat the boy kindly. 

Others said. No, it would do no good, and it 
would be exceedingly difficult to prove anything, as 
no one had actually seen any poison mixed with 
his food, nor had any one really heard Prem Chand 
declare himself about to take the cruel step. Sus- 
picion might even be thrown on the boy himself 
by the crafty Brahman priests, and lies might be 
told to prove that he had been known to tamper 
with such drugs before or had often appeared to 
be of unsound mind ; and there was no knowing 
what might be invented or done in order to get 
the poor lad back again into the hands of his rela- 
tives. Getting the father arrested on a suspicion 
of poisoning would be a very unwise proceeding 
on the part of the Christians, and would open the 
door to no end of craftiness; whereas if Muhkam 
Chand kept quiet, and simply went away to some 
other place for perhaps a few months, it was most 
likely that the guilty knowledge of what had been 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


165 


attempted would keep all his family from coming 
forward or making any fresh effort to get him back, 
and meanwhile his majority would become in the 
eyes of all an undoubted fact, and he would be 
free. This very sound advice was unanimously ac- 
cepted by Muhkam Chand^s Christian friends, and 
they began to make all arrangements for sending 
him to Amritsar the next day, deciding without 
a dissentient voice that Philip Muhkam Din, the 
Christian schoolmaster, just then stationed at Amrit- 
sar, should be asked to receive and shelter the dear 
lad for a time. 

The faqir was very pleased when he heard this 
plan discussed and settled. “For now,’^ thought he, 
“ I can still visit that beloved city, and yet not be 
separated altogether from one who has become as 
son to me.” 

“And why,” asked one, “are you so anxious, 
Babd,, to visit Amritsar again ? ” 

“Because,” said the old man, “I have been 
urgently advised to visit before I die the ‘Well- 
Spring of Immortality.^ I have already done all and 
everything which a Brahman can do in this life, 
and probably most men would feel more than satis- 
fied, but there is still in my heart a want of satis- 
faction, and I have some friends of great sanctity 
among Sikh faqirs, who tell me at all events to 
visit the Sacred Tank and see how that ‘Well- 


i66 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


Spring of Immortality^ brings satisfaction to those 
who bathe and worship there. I can but see ; there 
is nothing in the least defiling to a real Brahman 
in visiting any such holy spot.” 

“But, Babd,, have you not seen by all that Muh- 
kam Chand has accepted and borne for Christ’s sake, 
and by all his strength and joy ever since he came 
to Him for life, that he has found the true ‘Well- 
Spring of Immortality ’ ? ” 

But the old man, though he listened courteously 
to all they said, and with bowed head and reveren- 
tial look sat quietly during their morning and even- 
ing prayers, did not respond to any of their assur- 
ances that in Christ and His salvation he would 
find peace and rest, but only shook his head and 
remained sad and silent. 

When Muhkam Chand had slept long and had 
risen and taken a refreshing bath and some food, he 
was able to sit with his kind friends and join in the 
conversation, and it was with very affectionate looks 
that his old friend and deliverer regarded him and 
admired his appearance in the nice white Christian 
dress which had been provided for him. 

Muhkam Chand warmly agreed with those who 
did not recommend prosecuting the goldsmith and 
making public the scandalous story of the attempted 
poisoning, 

“No,” he said; “I could never take part in any 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR, 


167 


scheme for bringing this matter home to my poor 
father. Must not his own sorrow and remorse (if, 
indeed, he lent himself to the wicked suggestion of 
the Brahman priests) be all too dreadful a punish- 
ment, and will he not himself be thankful some day 
that I escaped? May we not even see yet the glad 
day when my father and brother and I shall live 
together in love? God forbid that I should open 
my mouth to witness against them now. May He 
pity and save them ! With regard to the old 
faqir, Muhkam Chand begged his friends to say no 
more to him at present about Christianity ; adding, 
“I am glad that I can go with him to Amritsar. I 
entirely trust him ; he is a simple-hearted, child-like 
old man. Do not fear his ever being untrue to 
me ; and do you all go on praying for him ; I 
cannot but think that even yet, before he dies, God 
will guide his steps to the true ‘Well-Spring of 
Immortality.' " 

The goldsmith and his family, on discovering that 
Muhkam Chand was gone, were thrown into a state 
of great agitation and confusion, and the servant 
who slept in the outer court was eagerly questioned as 
to what had happened. He could give no satisfactory 
answer, and as he produced his brother, who had 
not slept there at all, and both together declared 
that they had kept watch in turns all night, and 
had seen no one come or go, it was quite impos- 


i68 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


sible to get any clue from him. The one who had 
secured the companionship of the faqir in order to 
cover the absence of his brother dared not tell this, 
which would have been against himself, but in his 
own mind he had no doubt at all that the faqir had 
been the one who released Muhkam Chand. Prem 
Chand and his elder son had their own reasons for 
keeping very quiet and appearing as unconcerned as 
possible, while the Brahman priests did special pUja 
in different parts of the house, for which they re- 
ceived liberal pay, and then they advised that the 
“ Christian dog should be let go and no disturbance 
made about it. 

Prem Chand strongly suspected that the faqir had 
had some hand in helping Muhkam Chand to get 
away, but he had too much fear of the old man's 
having understood his dark hints and being prepared 
to betray him, though it puzzled him sorely to think 
why a Hindu faqir of good caste and evidently strong 
religious convictions should not at the end of such 
a long life of devotion and religious duties be more 
averse to siding with outcasts. “There is no know- 
ing," he said to himself; “the rascal may already 
have joined the Christian dogs, and this may be one 
of their tricks." 

So the goldsmith and his family decided to leave 
Muhkam Chand to his fate, and they gloomily began 
to try to return to their various avocations. 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 169 

Of the mother who shall write ? Bereaved, at least 
for a time, of so dear a son, accepting the separation 
as a cruel decree of fate, and taught by the mandates 
of a relentless religion that it was a sacred duty 
to curse and hate one who was dearer to her than 
her own life, how could she be other than most 
utterly miserable ? Such is the hard bondage of 
the votaries of heathen religions ! Truly ‘‘ the dark 
places of the earth are full of the habitations of 
cruelty.” 

Nearly two hours before daylight on the morning 
after that on which his escape had been effected 
Muhkam Chand and his old friend the faqir set 
forth on their journey to Amritsar. It had been 
decided not to take any conveyance until they were 
well clear of the town, and then to get an ehlia on 
the road, and so proceed on their way. Two young 
Christian men accompanied them in case of any 
sudden attack and attempt to carry off Muhkam 
Chand, and also to bring back news of having seen 
them safely started on the ehJia. Thus they set 
forth, and after resting outside the town at the dis- 
tance of about a mile until day dawned, they soon 
were seated on an ehha and travelling towards the 
famous city of Amritsar. 

The day was getting hot as they entered one of 
its gates and began to inquire their way to the 
house of Philip Muhkam Din. The wide hdzdr, 


170 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 

which was the newest in the city, was less busy than 
it had been at an earlier hour of the day ; for many 
tradesmen had closed and left their shops in order 
to go home to rest and sleep, and others were sleep- 
ing just inside the thick chick which, hanging in 
front of the tiny room dignified by the name of shop, 
does its part towards keeping out the all-too-busy 
flies and the intolerable glare of the sun. 

There were very few people walking just now in 
this street, and those few hurried along under their 
umbrellas as if very anxious to return as quickly as 
possible to the shelter of some house. 

If our travellers had gone on into less modern 
parts of the city they would have found narrower 
and therefore more sheltered streets, much more 
crowded also and busy, especially in the hdzdrs near 
the Golden Temple, where kapraivalas and other 
merchants allow themselves but scant rest at any 
time of the day in any season of the year; for, al- 
though their wealth is already almost fabulous, they 
grind and toil as though it would break their hearts 
to lose the chance of some paltry gain ! 

The weary travellers met with a most kind re- 
ception, and the faqir having been provided with a 
small outside room where he could live in his own 
style and not break caste, and Muhkam Chand affec- 
tionately cared for in the house, the day was spent 
(with intervals of rest) in much friendly talk and 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


171 

in telling all the story of Muhkam Chand’s bap- 
tism, of the attempted poisoning, and of his happy 
escape. 

In the cool of the evening, after a walk through 
the again densely crowded and busy hdzdrs, Narain 
Dass and Muhkam Chand stood together on the still 
burning marble pavement which surrounds on its 
four sides the Sacred Tank. They conversed quietly 
for some time, and the faqir showed his young 
companion the large and massively built houses 
which on nearly all sides complete the enclosure, 
the ground - floor rooms of which open on to the 
pavement or are provided with little balconies 
raised a few feet, where families of Sikhs sit and 
gaze upon the water. This may be regarded as 
the back of such a house, its front being in some 
street whence it would be approached by ordinary 
visitors.^ 

And below the level of pavement and Tank there 
may be found ‘‘Tae Khanas,” or cold rooms, in- 
tended to be used as resting-places in the middle 
of hot days. Going down into these is very grue- 
some, and makes one feel like being taken down 
into a well. It is also generally considered ex- 
tremely unhealthy to sit or sleep in such rooms, 

1 As a medical visitor I have often entered a large house in a galli lead- 
ing off a hdzdVt and have been surprised, on going into the patient’s room, 
apparently at the back of the house, to find a pleasant window overlooking 
the marble pavement and the Tank. — S. S. H. 


172 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


on account of the chill feeling produced after the 
intense heat of the upper rooms and streets. Great 
families, rajahs and others, own and use these 
houses, and occasionally they are lent to people 
from a distance on grand occasions at the Temple, 
and the rajah of each large native Sikh state in 
the Panjab has such a house on the border of the 
Tank, having nothing except the broad, beautiful, 
shining, marble pavement between it and the sacred 
waters. Some pious people have set apart certain 
large rooms for the sole use of faqirs, and it is 
considered a meritorious act to give fine skins of 
animals, as lions and tigers, to be also devoted 
to the use of these beggars for their comfort in 
sitting or in lying down to sleep. As many as 
five hundred faqirs may often be seen at one time 
taking advantage of this temporary dwelling-place in 
a vicinity so favourable to their — supposed — reli- 
gious aspirations ! 

Muhkam Chand was extremely desirous to prevent 
his old friend from joining any faqirs who might 
happen to he there at that time, and he held him 
in conversation until it was growing dusk, and then 
suggested returning to their friend's house, adding 
that he was very glad not to have to find his way 
alone through the crowded bazars. 

Before they finally turned away they gazed again 
on the really picturesque beauty of the whole scene 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR. 


173 


— the long white stretch of marble pavement on all 
sides ; the graceful pipal and nim trees growing here 
and there not far from the water’s edge, in places 
which had, of course, been specially prepared for 
them between the pieces of marble ; the pitiful sight 
of one or two aged men under such trees in some 
painful or fatiguing attitude gazing on the holy 
water, regardless of clothing or food, and only striv- 
ing, by making their lives as wretched as they 
possibly could, to win favour and forgiveness and 
eternal life ; that same holy water looking very 
pretty in spite of a certain coating of green scum 
which spoke of something not very conducive to 
health or cleanliness ; the glittering dome looking 
exceedingly beautiful in the last rays of the even- 
ing sun ; the long stream of men and women, some 
with such earnest ‘"religious” faces, some with such 
wistful, searching, anxious looks, going on and on, 
inside that fine vestibule, along that beautiful marble 
pier, round to a side-door of that somewhat small 
Temple at the end, the marble threshold of which 
they devoutly salute, pressing their foreheads upon 
it, and then entering to listen for a few moments 
to the monotonous reading of the Granth,^ to scatter 
a few cowries and flowers on the fine silk cloth 
spread on the floor in the midst on purpose to 
receive such offerings, and then returning by the 

1 Sacred book of the Sikhs. 


174 well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 


pier to the outside marble pavement, and so away 
by some lane leading off between the large sur- 
rounding houses ; away to their homes, away through 
the bustle of the city hdzdrs, away to life with all 
its joys and sorrows, its sins and sufferings ; away 
— and are they satisfied with what they have done 
in those sacred precincts ? It is to be presumed 
that, after a fashion, many are; but they must be 
the ones who have no real sense of sin, for when 
once that is felt, none of these things can ever 
satisfy. Thoughts somewhat like these filled the 
mind of Muhkam Chand as he turned to the faqir 
and said — 

“Well, Baba, is this more likely to help you 
than the Brahmans?” 

“ Let us speak of it another day, my son,” 
replied the old man. “ I am tired ; we will go 
home and rest. I have at last gazed once more, 
as I so longed to do, on the ‘Well-Spring of 
Immortality.’ ” 

“No, no!” said the boy. “I wish you had. I 
have ; and it is not like this ! ” 

“And what is the difference?” asked Narain Dass, 
standing still to have one more look before they 
turned away from the gilded toy of the Sikhs to 
wend their way through the noisy hdzdrs. 

And the boy closed his eyes very reverently, and 
as if to shut out that miserable mockery called 


AKBARPUR TO AMRITSAR 


175 



the ‘‘ Well-Spring of Immortality/’ and he said 
quietly — 

“ ‘ And He showed me a pure river of water 

OF LIFE, CLEAR AS CRYSTAL, PROCEEDING OUT OF THE 

Throne of God and of the Lamb/” 



CHAPTER IX. 


A CUP OF COLD WATER. 

Surpassing love hath turned the key, 

Hath opened wide the gate, 

Extending gracious help to me. 

Before it was too late. 

And now a loving, tender hand, 

So firmly grasping mine, 

Leads me within the open door 
Of all this love divine. 

Muhkam Chand began to go to school with his kind 
host, and to live in his family as a son. It was con- 
sidered an admirable plan that he should thus be so 
well cared for by a Christian friend whom he knew 
and trusted, and whose counsels had been valuable 
to him when he was a heathen boy ; and it was a 
most happy coincidence that he could at the same 
time prosecute his studies, and thus be fitting him- 
self for some employment or profession and earn his 
own living. 

To the lad himself it was a great delight to learn 
once more under his old friend, and to converse with 
him on many subjects as they walked to and from 
school. Philip Muhkam Din was now a widower, 

176 


A CUP OF COLD WATER, 


177 


and he had only two sons, the elder of whom was 
about the same age as Muhkam Chand. Both these 
boys were studying at the Government School, and 
their reception of their new companion was very 
cordial and happy. Muhkam Chand felt as if he 
should like to stay in such a home all his life now, 
and sometimes he was quite sad when he remembered 
that it was to be only temporary. 

But he soon had a pleasure which made him forget 
everything at all sad ; for one morning Philip told 
his boys that their aunt, little David’s mother, was 
coming to Amritsar to bring her girls to school for 
their last term, and that before returning home she 
would come and spend a few days with them, and 
bring with her little David. 

It was a very happy day for Muhkam Chand when 
the good Bibi and her little boy arrived ; and David 
was as delighted as Muhkam Chand, and very proud 
to call him his big brother and to be quite inseparable 
from him except just during school hours, when he 
persistently asked his mother all day, ‘‘When will 
he come home from school ? ” and with great glee he 
found his way to the door when he knew it was 
time to await his return. Then Muhkam Chand had 
to listen and talk and play until he was tired, but 
it was nothing but a pleasure to him, so tenderly 
had he begun to love the blind boy, and so soothing 
to his heart, in his separation from all of his own 


178 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


who were so dear to him naturally, was this clinging, 
trustful affection of the little David. 

And where was Narain Ddss? He had not as 
yet left his kind friends; he seemed unable to make 
up his mind to do that, and he had even con- 
sented to a little regular instruction from the school- 
master and Muhkam Chand every evening whenever 
he was at home ; but he often stayed away for a 
day or two, and once Muhkam Chand’ s heart sank 
as he noted that they had seen nothing of the old 
man for four days. He might have been tempted 
to forsake Christian friends ; he might have walked 
farther than his strength would permit of his doing 
with impunity, and he might be very ill or too 
feeble to return from some distant place ; he might 
even be dead ! When he came back that time 
Muhkam Chand reasoned with him, and begged him 
to discontinue his vagrant life and to take some 
very light post suited to his strength, such as 
chaukiddri} which would secure his daily bread and 
make his begging unnecessary; while still more ear- 
nestly did he entreat him to have done with all 
his efforts to gain eternal life meritoriously, and to 
accept Jesus Christ, the only Saviour ! Philip Muh- 
kam Din also talked long and faithfully to the poor 
old man, and little David was not behind in his en- 
deavours to forward the good work of the others. 

^ The work of a watchman, from chaulci, a chair, and ddr^ a mansion. 


A CUP OF COLD WATER. 


79 


The child had singular influence with the faqir, 
and would sometimes keep him in conversation for 
an hour or two, persuading him to tell him over 
and over again about his little friend Shiv J1 of so 
many years ago, and about the glittering wares of 
the brass-workers^ hdzdr in Benares, and as many other 
of such things as the old man was willing to tell 
the child about his boyish days ; and then he would 
say, “ O Baba ! I am so sorry for you ; your friends 
are all gone, and you must feel so lonely and sad. 
Would you like to hear again my song about my 
Friend?’’ 

Yes, the faqir would always like that; and so 
he would sit and listen, and, unseen by the happy 
child, the tears would roll down his rugged face, 
and he would say in a whisper, ‘‘ Sweet words ; sweet 
words ! 

Surely the light was slowly breaking on the old 
man’s path, and a little child, who was blind to 
every other thing except that blessed light, was 
gently leading him! 

David’s mother was anxious to return to Akbar- 
pur, but her journey was postponed on account of 
a slight attack of fever, which made the child so 
poorly for a day or two that Philip persuaded his 
sister to wait until he should be quite well again. 

One morning some business required doing in con- 
nection with a branch school in a village a few 


i8o THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


miles from town, and as it happened to be one of 
those numberless public holidays which set school- 
boys at liberty for a walk or a day’s pleasure, Muh- 
kam Chand offered to go and be Philip’s messen- 
ger. The season had changed, and a walk in the 
fresh, cool air was a great pleasure, and the old 
faqir offered to accompany him. This proposal, 
though quite acceptable to Muhkam Chand, put his 
walking out of the question, for in spite of the 
old man’s fair and brave start, he soon began to 
show that his aged limbs could not carry him far. 
But Muhkam Chand cheerfully gave up his walk, 
and they took an ehha. Philip had told him that 
they would find only three or four Christians in 
that village, but could rest and get some refresh- 
ment at one of their houses before returning. Ac- 
cordingly, when the business was done, Muhkam 
Chand began to look about for any house having 
the appearance of being inhabited by Christians, 
saying, “Baba, let us get at least a drink of water, 
for I am very thirsty.” The old faqir was getting 
careless about caste now, though he had never as 
yet eaten with Christians, and he had no objection 
to following Muhkam Chand to the door, opening 
into a clean, tidy little court, which was the en- 
trance of a house pointed out to them by a passer- 
by as a place where Christians lived. A middle- 
aged w^oman who appeared was evidently a Christian, 


A CUP OF COLD WATER. 


i8i 


and she at once asked Muhkam Chand whether she 
was not right in calling him one. And then she 
added, “ Come in and rest. My father-in-law will be 
so pleased to see you. Are you long a Christian, or 
lately?” 

Muhkam Chand was telling her as they crossed 
the open court that he had somewhat recently been 
baptized ; but suddenly remembering his old com- 
panion, he exclaimed, Oh ! the faqiv outside is a 
nice old man. I think you will allow him to come 
in and sit down a little to rest ? ” 

What ! you have a faqir with you ? Is he also 
a Christian ? Oh ! he must come in ; my father-in- 
law is always very specially careful to show kind- 
ness to faqirsr 

Muhkam Chand turned back and fetched in 
Narain Dass, while the woman entered the room 
and spoke to an old Christian man who sat there, 
and who, as she described the visitors, rose and 
came forward to receive them. Muhkam Chand was 
just leading in his old companion, when the aged 
occupant of the house came forward to meet them, 
saying, “ Come in and welcome, and stay to eat with 
us. Do not only drink a draught of water, though it 
is true indeed that our Master has promised a bless- 
ing with even a cup of cold water.” 

As he spoke the faqir raised his eyes and gazed 
intently on the face of the old Christian, while in 


1 82 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


his own countenance wonder and pleasure were 
struggling for the mastery. Almost the same look 
might be seen on the face of his host, and the 
next moment the two old men were clasped in each 
other’s arms, and Muhkam Chand heard, with un- 
utterable astonishment, the exclamations Shiv Ji ! ” 
and Narain Dass ! ” 

After a few moments the old Christian man said, 
“But my former name was not fitting for a Chris- 
tian, and when I received baptism I chose the 
name of Aaron ; so, brother, you must call me now 
by that.” 

Deeply interested were the two guests on hear- 
ing old Aaron’s story, and the time went all too 
quickly for Muhkam Chand as he listened to the 
account of how, reading the Gospel in secret, the 
faqirs brother-in-law had been led to inquire further 
concerning the religion of Jesus, had made himself 
known to a missionary, and had received regular 
instruction; had hesitated and waited in doubt and 
anxiety for many months, not being sure as to the 
right thing to do; had been struck on the occa- 
sion of the faqiFs visit with the evident unsatis- 
factoriness of even such a life of attempted sanctity 
and devotion to the claims of religion ; had given 
him a Hindi Gospel of St. John, and began to 
pray that God would grant them both light and 
show them the way of truth ; and had felt con- 



Mulikam Chand heard, with unutterable astoniehmeut, the exclamations 
‘Shiv Ji ! ’ and ‘ Narain Dass ! ’ ” — Page 18i 


I 



.... • s « 


TZ . 




A CUP OF COLD WATER, 183 

strained at length to accept the religion of Jesus 
the Saviour as the only true one, and had joined 
himself to Christians about twenty years ago, or 
immediately after he had last seen Narain Dd,ss. 
His wife was dead, and his only son, who was 
thirteen years old at the time of his father’s con- 
version, received baptism with him, and subse- 
quently married a Christian girl — the daughter-in-law 
who had admitted the visitors. Her husband was 
working in connection with the Mission, and was 
gone to preach at a mela} She asked with much 
interest, when her father-in-law’s story was ended, 
whether the guests would now tell theirs. 

Narain Dass excused himself for the present, say- 
ing, "‘Nay, daughter, this dear boy shall tell you 
all that has happened to him, and then he will be 
wishing to return to Amritsar. As for me, I must 
remain here a little with my brother, and we will 
talk more together when I am rested.” 

Every one of the little party agreed that for a 
time at least the faqir should stay with his newly 
found brother, and it was with a very light and 
happy heart that Muhkam Chand, after telling his 
own story to his kind, sympathising listeners and 
sharing a meal with them (of which the faqir also 
partook), made affectionate saldms to all three, and 
set forth on his journey to Amritsar, giving thanks 

^ Mela means a fair. 


184 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


over and over again for this, another wonderful 
arrangement of God’s providence, and feeling quite 
sure that now at last Narain Dass would, without 
further question, become a Christian. 

The anxiety with which Philip Muhkam Din and 
the mother of David saw him returning so late and 
without the faqir was soon turned into thanks- 
giving as they heard of the remarkable incident of 
the morning, and together that little family prayed 
that the teaching of old Aaron might find in Narain 
Dass a prepared heart, and that now, at length, 
in the evening of his days, he might obey the 
blessed invitation — 

“Ho! EVERY ONE THAT THIRSTETH, COME YE TO 
THE WATERS ! ” 



CHAPTER X. 


THE STORY OF AN OLD BIBLE. 


It had strengthened the heart of the helpless and weaiy, 
It had spoken sweet comfort ’mid deepest of gloom ; 

It had lighted the darkness of suffering so dreary," 

And shined with its glory by death and the tomb. 

It had guided the steps of the foolish and fearful, 

Had exhorted the warrior to holier strife ; 

It had comforted truly the mourner so tearful, 

Revealing the Saviour, the Giver of life ! 

Now it leads the old pilgrim, as earth’s scenes are closing. 
To Jesus, who giveth the burdened ones rest. 

And it points the dear child just in death’s sleep reposing. 
To the land of the glory, the realms of the blest ! 


Little David became more ill than his apparently 
slight symptoms had at first led his mother to fear ; 
and every day, although she kept on hoping that the 
fever would yield to such common remedies as are 
customarily used, she had to allow to herself at length 
that it was no merely ordinary attack, and that the 
child was not getting better at all ; all day and night 
he was in a burning fever, and he seemed to be 
growing very weak. 

Her brother called a doctor, who spoke gravely of 
the symptoms, and said that it was a very prostrating 

185 


1 86 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


form of fever common in Amritsar at that time of 
the year, and that the most assiduous care in nursing 
would be required. This, of course, the good mother 
was unremitting in attending to ; but Philip saw that 
the constant work and care were too much for her, 
and he secured for her the services of a Christian 
widow who lived on the compound of a missionary 
lady, and who was willingly spared and gladly came to 
help the good Bibi in her trouble. It was arranged 
that she should come for the days, returning to take 
care of her children at night. Her son, a lad of fifteen, 
attended the Mission School, but was a great favour- 
ite with the Government schoolmaster and his sons ; 
his name was Paul, and he could remember the time, 
five years ago, when, with his mother and little sister, 
he had been baptized. Very thankfully did David’s 
mother accept the kind help of this neighbour, and 
the two Bibis became much attached to each other as 
they watched by the side of the sick child ; and one 
day David’s mother asked her kind helper how long 
she had been a Christian, and begged to hear a little 
of the story of her life. 

Then her friendly little neighbour smiled and said, 
“You know my name is Basantkor, and my boy’s name 
is Paul. We were baptized five years ago, and as my 
name had no meaning connected with idols, it was not 
obliged to be changed ; but his name of Paul is a new 
one, because his old name was Ganesh, and was given 


THE STORY OF AN OLD BIBLE. 


187 


him in honour of that god of the Hindus who, as 
we foolishly thought, had been the kind donor to me 
of such a precious gift as a son ! Of course, it would 
be wrong to call a Christian boy Ganesh, and so that 
is why his name is changed. 

Perhaps, Bibi Ji, if you have always been a Chris- 
tian, you will scarcely be able to understand why his old 
name of Ganesh still has some pleasant recollections 
for me, for he was such a sweet little boy ; and once 
I nearly lost him when he fell into the water by the 
Golden Temple and was almost drowned, and after 
that he was even more precious to me than he was 
before. My little girl is called Mercy, because that is 
the meaning of Kirpa, her old name ; but I often call 
her Kirpa dei still, because I know the name has no 
bad meaning. I knew a very afflicted cripple woman, 
a widow, whose nephew became a Christian, and the 
reason that such a poor woman as me was acquainted 
with them (fgr they were well-to-do people) was, that 
when my Ganesh was nearly drowned her brother 
happened to be passing near the Golden Temple, and 
at once had the child placed in his gdri and removed 
to his own house, to be restored and taken care of. 
Often after that I used to take the child to see the 
crippled sister of that kind gentleman, and we grew 
so fond of each other. 

‘‘ At length I found out that she was believing in 
the things contained in the Christians’ Book, and 


i88 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


that she was almost inclined to become a Christian 
herself. I was very much afraid, you know, lest 
any one should think that I was having anything to 
do with the new religion, and so I scarcely liked 
to listen to what she told me, and yet I enjoyed 
hearing her talk, and somehow her words seemed to 
draiv me, and I felt a longing to hear more. At 
length, when her nephew became a Christian, she 
was left very lonely without his help and teaching, 
for you must understand that they had grown very 
fond of each other ; and once, when he had acci- 
dentally discovered that she possessed a Bible, 
which she had purchased from some Christian 
woman who sold them in the gallis and zenanas, 
he took it away to read it himself, and after that 
they felt drawn towards each other more than ever, 
because they knew each other’s secret. When he 
went away and became a Christian, of course, ac- 
cording to the Hindu religion, his young wife was 
made a widow, and so she and her husband’s aunt 
were very much thrown together, and grew fond of 
each other. Of course, the whole family were very 
angry, and the son was turned out and never allowed 
to visit his parents to this day ; and Wiran, his 
afflicted aunt, was very severely treated also, because 
they feared she was intending to join the Christians, 
while the poor little Shanti shared in her disgrace 
and punishment. 


THE STORY OF AN OLD BIBLE. 189 

“ This lasted a long time. I was a Hindu woman 
then, and did not know why these people gave them- 
selves so much trouble and got into so much dis- 
grace just in order to change their religion ; but 
still I never forgot the beautiful things which Wiran 
had read to me and told me out of her Book, and 
somehow I felt happier when I was thinking them 
over. 

‘‘ Once I was so fortunate as to get the chance 
to see Wiran again in her brother’s house, which 
was a great pleasure, because I had been so long 
excluded from her, as she had not been allowed 
to have any visitors. But the pleasure was rather 
spoilt by my being so dreadfully shocked when I 
saw the condition of Wiran and Shanti, and it 
made me quite angry with the people of my own 
religion to think that those who had done no harm 
to any one should be thus ill-treated. Wiran's 
nephew (Shanti’s husband, you know,) is called 
Partd,p Singh, and he has become the pastor of a 
village church a great many miles from here. His 
young wife decided to become a Christian in con- 
sequence of Wiran’s teaching, and after a great deal 
of trouble Partap Singh succeeded in removing them 
both to his own house by an order of the Court, 
given on the ground that both were of age and 
wished to join him as Christians. Shortly after their 
baptism the aunt, WMn, died; and now, of course. 


190 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


SMnti is gone with her husband to that village I 
spoke of. 

“ My husband was living then, and he and my 
mother-in-law were not pleased because I was so 
fond of Wiran, and I was in her room when she 
died. But as for me, I could never forget her or 
learn to dislike the beautiful things she said and 
taught me, and I begged of Shanti to give me 
lessons in reading. Shanti was not able to do this, 
because she was young and very inexperienced, but 
she asked a missionary lady, who kindly sometimes 
came herself and sometimes sent a Christian Bibi 
to my house regularly; and as my teachers were 
very patient with me, I soon learnt to read. Shdnti 
had already promised that when I could read she 
would give me Wiran’ s old Bible ; and great was 
joy when, one day, I went to the Babu Partdp 
Singh’s house and showed how I could read aloud, 
and he and his wife agreed that now it was time for 
me to have the Bible. I took it home and kept 
it hidden, and sometimes read quietly to myself. I 
was daily getting more and more interested in it and 
drawn towards all that it taught, when my husband 
died after a very short attack of fever. I turned to 
my Book then for help, and grew very fond of some 
of its comforting words. 

“ My mother-in-law was very particular about 
having every ceremony properly gone through in 



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“ I began to love the Saviour who, for me, a poor, ignorant heathen woman, 
had done evet'ything." — Page 191. 




I 



THE STORY OF AN OLD BIBLE. 191 

connection with her son’s death, and she often urged 
me to do pUja at Tanks ; ^ but I cared nothing for 
this — I felt it was no good. My heart was heavy, 
for I had lost a good and kind husband, and now 
I had no one to care for my children. After much 
thinking I decided to believe in the God of the 
Christians. At first, perhaps, this was chiefly because 
I felt so miserable and knew of no way in which 
I could earn a living; but as I heard more and 
more from those Christians to whom I applied for 
advice, and especially as Shanti and her husband 
taught me more of the beautiful promises of the 
Gospel, I began to love the Saviour who, for me, a 
poor, ignorant heathen woman, had done everything. 
My mother-in-law was exceedingly angry at my de- 
cision, and tried to persuade some of my husband’s 
male relatives to claim my children and take them 
from me by force. However, the kind missionaries 
and other Christian friends helped me over that 
difficulty and placed me under instruction and pro- 
tection at a missionary lady’s house, and after a 
time I and my children were baptized. Then I was 
regularly employed as a helper in a Mission school 
in the city. Of course, I cannot teach much, only 
some kinds of needlework and reading Hindi; but I 

1 By floating upon the water as many little chirdgs as represented the 
number of years of her husband’s life, and then praying to the god of the 
water. 


192 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


am learning too, and so I hope that some day I shall 
be' able to do much better than I can now. 

“My mother-in-law has again become friendly, and 
she even comes to stay with me sometimes ; but, 
of course, she is very particular about keeping her 
own drinking- vessels and things to herself, and she 
always cooks her own bread ; but I can see she is 
much softened, and she does not say nearly so 
many unkind things as she once did ; and • then, 
you know, she is so exceedingly fond of the chil- 
dren, and especially of Paul (whom she persists in 
still calling Ganesh), that perhaps in the end her 
heart may be drawn quite to our religion. I have 
once or twice persuaded her to listen to a little 
reading from my precious Book.” 

It was only a day or two after this unusually 
long talk that little David’s nurses thought he still 
seemed to be getting weaker, and the fever was not 
at all subdued. Every now and then, for a few hours, 
he seemed so exceedingly ill that his mother thought, 
“ Can he be going to die ! ” She told her worst fears 
to her brother, who, although awake now himself to 
the child’s danger, tried to reassure and console her. 
However, he said it would be well, and doubtless a 
comfort to her, if he sent for Mohindrandth without 
delay. Philip came to sit down by his little nephew, 
and asked, Would he like to see dear father? The 
child quickly replied, “ Oh yes ! I want father, and 


THE STORY OF AN OLD BIBLE, 193 

Narain Ddss too, please, my old faqir Muhkam 
Chand undertook to go and fetch the faqir, while a 
messenger was despatched to Akbarpur to take the 
news to Mohindrandth that his child was very ill. 

No one thought, except the mother and uncle, that 
the illness might probably end fatally ; many neigh- 
bours and friends came in to show sympathy, but all 
tried to cheer the good Bibi and encourage her to 
think that there would soon be a favourable change, 
of which she might take advantage to have him re- 
moved to Akbarpur. 

The child himself was quiet and happy, though 
very prostrate with the fever ; he liked to lie still 
and listen to the sound of his mother’s footsteps 
or voice or movements as she went about her few 
duties, and he had been from the first pleased to 
have Basantkor by him, and when feeling at times 
a little stronger, would ask her about her children 
and herself, until by degrees he had heard all her 
readily told tale. 

“I like that Bible,” he said quietly; ‘‘it is a dear 
old Bible. Your boy, Paul, will love it, and he will be 
able to read it. Ah ! he is clever. And then he can see, 
while I can only know what I can remember; and 
there must be great heaps in the Bible which a little 
boy like me could never remember. It must be very 
nice to be able to read ! 

Paul would come sometimes and tell him a Bible story 

N 


194 '^HE well-spring OF IMMORTALITY, 


or read a few verses from the Hymn-book ; but though 
he liked his young visitor and called him his brother, 
yet he would soon weary of talking or reading ; they 
made his head ache, unless he was resting in his mother’s 
arms, or holding the hand of Muhkam Chand as he sat 
on the little bed by his side. Then he would ask them 
to read or sing or talk ; they never tired him ; they 
only soothed and rested him so much. During the 
few hours before Muhkam Chand could return with 
the faqir the child lay very quiet, and always seemed 
to be listening, and very heavy grew his mother’s heart 
as she watched his increasing weakness and won- 
dered whether he thought himself that he would soon, 
perhaps, leave his mother and go to the Saviour ! 
She was schooling her heart to meet whatever might 
be in store for her, when she heard him say, half to 
himself, ‘‘ He will be our Shepherd, after as before ; 
by still heavenly waters feed us evermore ; ” and then 
she felt sure that he ivas looking forward to a very 
different ending of this illness- from any which they 
had all thought of at first. She told her brother 
Philip, and he said, ‘^We are doing all we can. 
God will order everything for the best, and we must 
give Him thanks that this sweet child has found it 
true in Jesu’s love — 

“ ‘ He shall feed me in a green pasture, and 
LEAD me forth BESIDE THE WATERS OF COMFORT.’ ” 


CHAPTER XL 


“ THA T LIFE-GI VING STREAM!” 

A new bright day 

Is dawning'on the old man’s life, a day 

So radiantly full of joy, so free 

From burden, grief, and weary, hopeless search ; 

A day of such heart-rest, such calm and peace. 
That he shall backward look and oft recall 
His old, worn, weary, wandering self as once 
Upon life’s dusty highway on he toiled. 

Footsore, athirst, unsatisfied. And now ! 

He questions often can he be the same ? 

Yes, ’tis the same, and at the first sweet draught 
Of that pure well-spring of immortal life. 

To which, in love unerring, God had led 
The weary traveller’s steps, new life began 
To flow in warm, full, joyous, blessed tide. 

And after all his dark and wretched night 
Of doubt and want, his upward look of praise 
Reveals for him a glorious, heavenly dawn, 

A new, bright day ! 


The faqir was exceedingly distressed by the news 
of the illness of the little child, and he seemed 
quite unable to speak about himself, as again and 
again he begged Muhkam Chand to tell him would 
he live? was he conscious? had every possible hakim 
and every likely medicine been already tried? was 
his father coming? 

195 


196 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 

Muhkam Chand, although quite as anxious as the 
faqir about the dear child so beloved by all of 
them, was yet more concerned to know what had 
been the effect upon Narain Dass of this sojourn 
with his brother-in-law. 

Narain Ddss was so eager to start for Amritsar 
that it was with difficulty that Muhkam Chand 
could secure even a few minutes’ talk with Aaron 
to ask him what he was so longing to know. 
But they did find time to tell him, “ Oh ! he has 
believed the good ‘news at last, and we are all 
coming into Amritsar to be present at his baptism. 
He says he is too old to wait any longer, and 
indeed he is very feeble ; we scarcely thought one 
or two days when he lay down to rest that he 
would be able to get up again. As to his old 
belief, he was nearly broken down in that when 
he came, and all he knew of your case helped 
him very much to see the evils of Hinduism, and 
how a poor sinner could never get help or life 
out of such a religion as that ; and so he came 
here already more than half a Christian, and find- 
ing me, his old brother, as it were, seemed like 
God taking him by the hand and leading him right 
on. He was so surprised, and he wondered so 
much at the power and wisdom of God, and then 
from that it was not very difficult to bring him to 
wonder at His love too ; and, you know, when once 


^^THAT LIFE-GIVING STREAM! 


197 


a man comes to think rightly of that, why, he is 
almost a Christian ! ” 

Old Narain Dass was getting impatient to be on 
the way, so they set out ; and presently, while wait- 
ing for an ehha, he said, “ My son, I have come to 
your Saviour; I have found the ‘Well-Spring of 
Immortality.’ ” 

Muhkam Chand’s heart was very full of joy, and 
he silently thanked God as he listened to all the 
old man had to tell him of the time spent with 
Aaron, and the gradual breaking in of the light, 
the gradual but sure hope which had dawned in his 
heart during these few days. 

“I had long felt,” he said, “that there was truth 
in what the Christians taught, but I never could 
quite come to believe that it was the Truth. I 
tried to hold on to my notion that Christianity is 
all very well for those who are born to it, and 
Hinduism for those who are born to it, but that 
changing about was no good for any man ; and 
besides, you see, I felt so sure that these sacred 
rivers and tanks in different places throughout India 
must have some efficacy since so many people had 
such faith in them, and I could not believe that 
this was all a lie and a mistake, nor could I be 
satisfied till I had tried all round ; and now I have 
tried, and I know it is all a lie, for the more I 
have tried, and the more I have done, and the 


198 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


more suffering I have borne, the more have I felt 
no satisfaction. There was nothing in all these 
things which met the innermost wants of a man’s 
being and made him feel at rest. When I first read 
of the Saviour I admired Him, but thought His 
life a very marvellously conjured-up tale, beautifully 
written and made very attractive, but still the life 
of a merely human being — not a true one, because 
all experience says that none could be so abso- 
lutely perfect, so spotlessly holy, but a grand 
imagination. It was when Aaron put before me 
the thought that this wonderful Man was, and is, 
God Almighty, and showed me proof in His words 
and deeds, fulfilling exactly, as they do, the pro- 
phecies of the Divine Saviour — prophecies written 
hundreds of years before His life on earth — that 
I felt unable to answer his arguments ; and when 
he asked me to prove this Divine Man by speak- 
ing to Him as to God, and asking Him to supply 
what everything I had tried on earth had failed to 
give, I resolved to try at once so simple a test. 
This is only three days ago, but from trustfully 
asking Jesus Christ, if indeed He were the Saviour 
of men, to take away my desolateness and give me 
satisfaction after all my fruitless efforts to find 
it elsewhere, I have had every hour an increasing 
sense of rest. It seems as if my poor old heart had 
become warmed, and I could almost think that new 


THAT LIFE-GIVING STREAM/ 


199 


young blood was running in my veins. I no longer 
grieve that I am lost, outside, unhappy, and empty. 
I am glad now, and satisfied.’' 

Much more would the old man have told to his 
happy young listener, but the ehha being now ready 
to start, they took their seats, and it was not longer 
possible to carry on conversation, and with the ex- 
ception of a few occasional remarks, they proceeded 
in silence on their road to Amritsar; but Muhkam 
Chand was lifting up his heart in praise that his 
poor old friend had drunk of that “ life-giving stream.” 

When they reached Amritsar they found a slight 
change for the better in the little patient, who was 
eagerly looking forward to hearing about the faqir. 
While somewhat relieved from her sore anxiety about 
him, his mother was prepared to listen, as every 
one else was, to the old man’s story. With what 
thankful hearts did Philip and Muhkam Chand re- 
joice over the long misled and weary wanderer now 
come to Christ to find rest and to have his thirst for 
ever quenched at last by that “ living water ” ! 

But on the face of the sick child there was a 
look of wondrous joy. ‘‘Is my old faqir going to 
be a Christian ? ” he cried. “ Oh ! when will he be 
baptized? Shall I be well enough to go to church 
and hear ? ” 

Philip Muhkam Din subsequently learnt that ar- 
rangements for the baptism on the following Sunday 


200 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


had already been made, the missionaries having seen 
the old man two days ago at the village where Aaron 
lived, and having received from him most satisfac- 
tory evidence as to the faqir's readiness, after his 
long and earnest searching and final complete yielding 
of himself to God. Every one who knew anything 
about the whole case felt that no delay was admis- 
sible, for the time evidently drew near when this 
old toil-worn traveller must go to his ‘Gong home.” 
When David heard that the baptism would be on 
Sunday he was very glad, though for a moment 
the tears stood in his sightless eyes as he whispered, 
“ Then, brother, I shall not be able to go ; I am 
sorry for that ; but brightening at once, he con- 
tinued — “ But it is better than his waiting. You see, 
he might die.” 

The next evening Mohindranath arrived. He had 
been obliged to wait until he received official per- 
mission to leave his post; but now he was able to 
tell them all that he had obtained ten days’ leave, 
and hoped that, perhaps, by the time it was expired 
he might find it possible to take little David and his 
mother home again. But when he had for a while 
sat and watched his child he felt very heavy-hearted, 
for something seemed to tell him that he would 
never take him home again. Those who had been 
so constantly with him, even including the fond 
mother and the anxious little neighbour, Basantkor, 


THAT LIFE’^GIVING STREAM I 


201 


had been deceived by familiarity with the sight of 
the little suffering face, and had buoyed themselves 
up with hope until they were quite prepared to 
exaggerate every symptom for the better, and they 
were almost surprised when, after his first watch by 
the side of his child, Mohindranath came out into 
the verandah and sat down by his brotherly friend, 
and then, burying his face in his hands, exclaimed, 
“Oh! why did you not prepare me for the worst 
But he too felt hope revive as he noticed the child’s 
quiet happiness. He began to think he had been 
too much startled ; that perhaps, after all, there was 
not really so much change for the worse as he had 
feared ; and so after a few hours he was prepared to 
join a little in conversation, and to listen with as 
much interest as he ever took in such matters to 
the story of the faqir having found his brother-in- 
law and having been led to embrace Christianity. 
He was even pleased, on the whole, that there was 
to be a baptism on Sunday. It Was, as he remarked 
to Philip, “ a perfectly safe case, in which there could 
be no question of minority;’^ and he also felt that 
it was in favour of the man being baptized that 
there were no Hindu friends to come troubling, and 
there was old Aaron to give him such things as he 
had need of, so that he was not likely to “ come on 
the Mission.’' 

“Just see, now,” he added, “the trouble this boy 


202 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


has given all through choosing most unnecessarily to 
leave his old religion/' 

Muhkam Chand was not present, and Philip only 
quietly answered, “ I do not think that that is the 
way the angels look at it ; for, you know, ‘ there is 
joy in the presence of the angels of God over one 
sinner that repenteth/ ” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t know much about the angels,” was the 
answer; “but, you see, we must always he careful 

Basantkor and young Paul were among those who 
were very glad about the old faqir, for Muhkam 
Chand had told them all about his life, and had 
related all his wonderful kindness to himself, and 
how he had delivered him from such terrible danger 
and proved such a faithful friend. 

When Basantkor heard that Narain Dass could 
read Hindi, she brought her Bible and told him a 
little about its history, and asked him if he would 
like to have it by him as long as he was staying 
in the house ; and he listened with many exclama- 
tions of sorrow to the story of Wiran’s sufferings, 
and with many expressions of happiness to the de- 
scription of her faith and baptism and happy death. 

“ Ah ! ” he said, “ that was another poor weak one 
led, like me, by a weary and difficult way, to come 
all right at last.” 

He kept the Bible constantly near him during the 
two days that intervened before Sunday, and he often 


THAT LIFE-GIVING STREAM! 


203 


might be seen sitting somewhere in the room where 
the sick child was ; for little David loved to have him 
there, and would ask him to read something to him 
which he had found new in that book. Mohindrandth 
rather discouraged this, but David’s mother used her 
quiet influence to ensure it, and always managed to 
let Narain Dd,ss see that she would like him to stay, 
for she knew that the child so loved the company of 
both Narain Dd-ss and Muhkam Chand that it was far 
better for him in every way to have them near him. 
And thus it happened that several times during those 
two days when Mohindranath was sitting by the side 
of his child that old Bible was doing a triple work : 
it was comforting the heart of a little pilgrim who, 
in spite of all his fondly loving parents’ too sanguine 
hopes, was going surely down into the valley of the 
shadow of death ; it was throwing fresh light upon 
the path of the old traveller in the eventide of his 
days, and teaching him new lessons of truth and 
grace ; and it was knocking at the heart of a nominal 
Christian who had never yet made room for Jesus 
to enter into that heart in all the fulness and freeness 
of His love and grace. Ah ! Mohindrdnd-th would 
have escaped even then from the knocking if it had 
not been for his unwillingness to leave the child round 
whose waning life all his heart’s best affections were 
entwined. 

On Saturday evening old Aaron arrived, and the 


204 well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 


schoolmaster’s house was full indeed of guests. It is 
a custom among the Christians of India to he very 
hospitable one to another, and never to refuse to 
receive any visitor unless absolutely obliged. Their 
houses have wonderful capacities for accommodating 
many guests, and the difficulty often felt in England 
about “ giving a friend a bed” is in India almost nil. 
Chdrpaies are cheap and very movable, easily placed 
in verandahs (in a row, if need be) or on roofs in 
suitable weather, and they are made ready at once for 
occupation as soon as the visitor s gathris (or bundles) 
are opened and their razais, pillows, and blankets 
spread.^ 

It was a strange company gathered together for that 
Sunday, and strangely mingled feelings were present 
in every heart. At the time of the afternoon service, 
when the baptism was to take place, only the father 
and mother of little David remained at home ; they 
were anxiously watching the effect of a new medicine 
which had been given on Saturday night by a fresh 
doctor, whom Mohindrd-ndth had called in. The good 
Bibi longed to go, but felt she could not tear herself 
away from the child or lose one of those precious hours 
of his little life, which she felt increasingly sure were 
numbered now. As for Mohindrandth, he had resolved 

^ With some modification (on account of otcr conventional requirements!) 
this description applies to Europeans’ arrangements for visitors, whom in 
India it is exceedingly easy to entertain. 


THAT LIFE-GIVING STREAM 


205 


to hope, and he frequently urged his child to say 
did he feel better now? was the fever less? was the 
medicine doing him any good ? 

The little fellow would smile and look as though 
he would cheer his father’s heart if he could ; but 
his thoughts were not there, nor was he caring about 
the medicine or fretting about the fever, which kept 
on so persistently, without intermission. When at 
length he heard the clock strike five he exclaimed, 
“ There ! it must be done now ; my old faqir is a 
Christian ! ” 

When the whole party returned from church they 
ate together with their new brother, and then, before 
parting for the night, had another little service of 
prayer and praise. 

Aaron asked Narain Ddss whether he would accom- 
pany him home on the morrow. But Narain Dd-ss 
begged to be left for a while, and asked his brother 
to return home without him, promising that, as soon 
as he saw how the child would be, he would come 
to the village and visit him. 

The question was raised as to how the faqir should 
live and where he should stay, and, of course, Aaron 
was eager in his entreaties that his brother-in-law 
should consider his house always his home and share 
his humble fare. 

But Narain Dass had hoped still to beg his bread, 
and to end his life as he had carried it on for so 


206 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


many years homeless and alone. He had, with some 
regret, agreed to presenting himself for baptism in 
some white clothes which David^s mother had pro- 
vided for him, and which every one assured him were 
the only suitable ones for the occasion, and after- 
wards he had persuaded his friends to allow him to 
resume his yellow clothing, to which he had been so 
long accustomed ; and he had asked Muhkam Chand 
to carve for him a rough wooden cross to put on as 
a head to his staff, in order that he might not be 
mistaken for a Hindu, but might be everywhere 
recognised as a Christian faqir. Not altogether 
satisfied that he should, in his weak state, be again 
often alone and begging his bread, and yet persuaded 
that no other condition would exactly suit his life- 
long habits, his kind friends and advisers had to 
comfort themselves with his promise to be very fre- 
quently at the house of his brother Aaron, and to 
rest there as much as he could. At length they 
parted for the night, some to sleep and others to 
watch, and each one whose heart God had touched 
and filled with His own love gave Him special 
thanks for the fulfilment in the faqir' s case of the 
word of promise of Him who is “the Alpha and 
Omega, the beginning and the end ” — 

“I WILL GIVE UNTO HIM THAT IS ATHIRST OF THE 
FOUNTAIN OF THE WATER OF LIFE FREELY.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


SEEING AND SATISFIED. 

Opening his eyes upon that Land of glory, 

Sees the sweet child at length the Saviour’s face ; 
Knows this to he the Friend whose wondrous story 
From Bethlehem to Calvary he loved to trace — 
Sees and is satisfied! 

Calm is the rest and glorious is the gladness 
Dwelling within the aged pilgrim’s heart, 

As, after all earth’s wanderings and sadness, 

He sees Thee, blessed Saviour, as Thou art — 

Sees and is satisfied ! 


Aaron left in the morning for his village home, but 
Narain Dass stayed on all that day and the next, 
sharing with the sorrowing family the anxious watch 
by the sick child. Philip Muhkam Dm was obliged 
to be present at school, and the boys accompanied 
him, so that during the day David's mother was very 
glad of the help of the old man, who could under- 
take short journeys on errands for her, and who was 
never so pleased as when he could be doing some- 
thing to show his gratitude and love. 

The doctor came two or three times on Monday, 
and brought another on Tuesday with whom to con- 
sult about the case, but no medicine made any 

207 


208 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


difference to that relentless low fever which was so 
surely sapping the child’s life. 

In the evening Muhkam Chand could not study; 
he felt that he could not be away from the little 
sufferer, who clung to him as if they had been indeed 
brothers. 

Paul, too, and the other boys would come and speak 
to him, and he liked them to come well enough ; but 
it was Muhkam Chand he longed for, and nothing 
would satisfy him, when he knew school-hours were 
over, until the boy was sharing the watch with father 
and mother. The doctor took the father aside that 
evening at last, and spoke the terrible words no hope ; 
he felt obliged to warn him that the strength of the 
always delicate child had already held out wonder- 
fully, but they must not dare hope that it would bear 
a much longer strain, and in all probability the end 
must be expected within a few hours. 

Mohindranath, thus obliged to relinquish his last 
hope, became terribly distressed ; he called another 
doctor and yet another, but none gave him any en- 
couragement. He wanted next to try some powerful 
medicine which he had heard of, but Philip knew 
that it was only giving the child useless trouble, and 
he earnestly dissuaded Mohindranath from trying to 
administer it — “For, alas! my brother,” he urged, “it 
is too sadly evident that our dear child is dying 


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“Ami now, from that happy land where I shall he able to see, I shall 
always be waiting for dear father.''- 209. 



SEEING AND SATISFIED. 


209 


The little boy caught the whispered word. “ Am I 
dying?” he asked. ‘‘Muhkam Chand, am I dying? 
Mother, what is this ? Is it the valley of the shadow 
of death?” And then, after a quiet pause, “Where 
is my faqirf Come here. Baba. I have never seen 
you ; I have only thought of what you may be like. 
Let me feel once more your face, that I may know 
you again when we meet in the land where I shall 
be able to see.” 

For a moment the rugged, care-worn face of the 
old man, who had so late entered into the light 
and love of God, was almost touching the child’s in 
strange and beautiful contrast, as the fevered hands, 
so thin and weak, so hurried and eager, passed over 
the features of the faqir ; and then the child said, 
“ Now, Baba, I shall not forget ; I shall know you 
again when you come to heaven.” 

He was very exhausted with this effort, but after 
a moment’s rest he was trying to speak again, and as 
his mother leaned over him she caught the words, 
“Where is father?” In a moment Mohindrand,th was 
beside him, and the child said, “Father, I always 
used to watch for you to come from school ; and now, 
from that happy land where I shall be able to see, 
I shall always be waiting for dear father.” 

Ah ! Mohindrd-nath, it was the rod of a loving, 
gracious God which smote thee then, and which had 

been smiting thee many times before as thou didst 

0 


210 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


silently watch all that went on by thy sick child’s 
bed, and realised that he and his old faqir friend and 
young lately converted boy companion were all farther 
advanced in the heavenly road than thee. Well 
mightest thou forget all else at that moment, and on 
thy knees, by the side of thy dying child, grasping 
the tiny hand that had led thee to Jesus, cry, “ I 
will arise and go to my Father, and will say unto 
Him, ‘ Father, I have sinned.’ ” 

David’s mother, from the depths of her own un- 
fathomable sorrow, lifted up her comforted heart 
with one glad cry of gratitude as she realised that 
the dying child was leading the father, so long in- 
different and careless, to the “ Well-Spring of Immor- 
tality.” Muhkam Chand’s eyes met those of the 
weeping mother, and each felt that in the meaning 
look of praise on the other’s face they had read the 
fact that to each the other’s hidden grief on behalf 
of the schoolmaster had been an open secret. 

And thus, joined by other neighbours and the 
sisters of the little sufferer, who were present from 
the school with their kind friend, the missionary lady, 
who was at the head of it, they watched ; and one 
parent held each little hand in silent agony as the 
blind child who had unconsciously led others to 
light and joy was drawing nearer and nearer to the 
land where “they need no candle, neither the light 
of the sun ; for the Lord God giveth them light.” 


SEEING AND SATISFIED, 


2II 


His laboured breath and failing consciousness told 
all too plainly moment by moment that the watchers' 
sad task would soon be done. Once again his lips 
moved, and he named his dear brother, Muhkam 
Chand, and then “my old faqir;'' and after a 
moment, with a last effort and a bright look up- 
wards, “ I see ! I see ! " and while some among the 
almost breathless watchers whispered, “He is gone," 
Muhkam Chand said in a clear, quiet voice, “‘They 
shall see His Face ; and His Name shall be in their 
foreheads.' " 


The following day, when the body of their beloved 
child had been laid in the cemetery, and many kind 
friends had called to mourn with the sorrowing 
father and mother, Narain Dass said that he would 
go to stay for a little while with Aaron ; and Muh- 
kam Chand, knowing how great a trial to the old 
man's weak frame had been the excitement, both 
joyous and sorrowful, of the last few days, resolved 
to take him on an ekJia, and only leave him when 
he had committed him safely to the care of Aaron 
and his daughter-in-law. 

Mohindranath had still a portion of his granted 
leave, and at Philip's earnest request spent it with 
him. 

Little David's mother was bearing up well, the 


212 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY, 


neighbours said, under her heavy sorrow ; but, ah ! 
they could not see the aching void in the heart of 
the brave woman, who, although exceedingly com- 
forted because, out of the depth of this desolation 
and grief, her husband had turned with all his heart 
to God, yet realised more and more every moment 
the sad loss of the sweet child whose presence in 
the house had been one of its brightest joys. 

Philip lost no opportunity of seeking to deepen 
the impressions made at the deathbed of the child, 
and night after night he led his friend to prayerful 
study of God’s Word, teaching and helping him for 
whom he had so long prayed, and over whom now 
at length he had cause for rejoicing. 

When Muhkam Chand came back from his jour- 
ney with the old faqir, Mohindranath sought his 
company, that he might hear from his own lips what 
he had never cared to know before, but what he 
now felt the keenest interest in understanding — 
how he came to be a Christian. When Muhkam 
Chand had told his old schoolmaster as much as 
he could of his reading and thought and final 
decision, he asked him eagerly of his family, and 
begged that from time to time he would send him 
some news of them. “And could you not,” he 
somewhat timidly added, “ go to them on the 
strength of your old friendship, and tell them of 
the Saviour?” 


SEEING AND SATISFIED. 


213 


“ Alas ! ” said the now penitent and deeply humbled 
man, “I feel ashamed. How dare I lift up my face 
before those in whose presence I have hitherto been 
so cowardly ? ” 

“ But you were cowardly because you did not really 
know the Saviour’s love,” urged Muhkam Chand ; 
‘‘now that has come into your heart, it will make 
you strong, and you will be no more afraid.” 

Basantkor heard with great joy from little David’s 
mother that the words of the dying child had been 
so blessed to the father, and the two good Bibis drew 
very near together in this time of strangely mingled 
sorrow and joy. 

But the bereaved parents had to return to their de- 
solate home in Akbarpur, and Basantkor went home 
also to the shelter of the Mission, Miss Sahiba’s 
Zenana compound, and for a few weeks all things in 
the house of Philip Muhkam Din went on in their 
usual course. 

Two or three times Muhkam Chand took advantage 
of a holiday to go over to the village and inquire for 
Narain Dass, and each time spent some pleasant hours 
in intercourse with the affectionate old man, whose 
failing strength still deterred him from carrying out 
his intention of resuming his wandering life. It was 
near Christmas when he returned from one of these 
expeditions, very happy and with some good news 
to tell. Aaron had told him that on the coming 


14 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 


Christmas festival, when the Christians of the village 
(being too few to have a church of their own) should 
go into Amritsar, Narain Dass was to be admitted 
with them to the Holy Communion. One of the 
missionaries had been over several times to teach and 
prepare him for this happy occasion, and Aaron was 
very thankful, and told Muhkam Chand that this 
would be the most joyous Christmas of his life. 

When the festive season came and many visitors 
arrived, the faqir and his brother came to stay with 
Philip Muhkam Dm. The faqir and his dear son,’^ 
Muhkam Chand, had a good deal of happy talk 
together, the younger longing to tell the old man 
as much as he possibly could about the meaning of 
Christmas and all its joys. Before they parted for the 
night he said, with a conscious, shy look, “ I want to 
tell you. Baba, that I am soon going to be some one 
else’s ‘dear son^ now.’^ Then, seeing that his poor old 
listener was puzzled, he added, “Bdbu Mohindranath 
and the mother of little David love me for that dear 
child’s sake, and you know he always liked to call 
me brother ; and I am to be a son in their family, 
and call them mother and father, and try to make 
them happy in their great sorrow and in the loneliness 
of their home ; and I am very glad to feel that they 
love me so and can make me their son.” 

“But how is it to be?” questioned the old man. 
“I cannot understand.” 


SEEING AND SATISFIED. 


215 


“ Oh ! why not, Baba? Don’t you see they are going 
to give me their elder daughter to be my wife ! ” 

We cannot follow the story of that young couple, 
but we may imagine the home enlightened by the beau- 
tiful light of God’s love, and cheered by His constant 
and earnestly sought, because truly loved. Presence. 
We may venture to think of one there who, after long 
steeling his heart against that light and love, now 
walks humbly with his God, led by the gentle hand 
of a prayerful wife, leaning on the strong, manly son 
whose faith has stood such fiery trials, and rejoicing 
in the affection of daughters who are rising up to 
call their mother blessed. But amid all their love and 
care, and in all that he humbly learns from each one, 
he seems to feel himself the soft pressure of little, 
feeble, fevered fingers clasping his, and to be ever 
drawn nearer and nearer to the heavenly world by 
little David ; while over and over again, as he mourns 
at the Saviour’s feet, with many tears, his old stupidity 
and blindness, he feels that he can echo for himself 
by faith the last words he heard uttered by those 
childish lips — “ I see ! I see ! ” 

And we should not be far wrong if we were to look 
forward a few years and find another son-in-law in 
that happy household, and hear him called Paul, when 
he comes sometimes with his wife and children ; and 
we should recognise his mother in middle life as our 


2i6 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 


old friend Basantkor ; and we should see, perhaps, on 
high days and holidays, a very merry, happy family 
party, the childish members of which always like to 
hear, over and over again, Muhkam Chand^s and 
Basantkor’s wonderful stories of themselves and 
others ; but around none of these earnestly called 
for recitals does such a loving interest centre as 
around the history of little David ! 

We must draw the pardah on these tempting scenes, 
and recall ourselves to the Christmas Day on which 
old Narain Dd-ss was led by his strong young friend 
to the service in church. He was very feeble, and his 
steps tottered so much that Muhkam Chand wondered 
whether he would ever go to church again. 

The poor, weary face was lighted up with pleasure 
as he listened to the strains of 

“ Hark ! the Herald Angels sing. 

Glory to the new-born King ! ” 

and again his aged head was reverently bowed at 
the refrain of another hymn — 

“ 0 come, let us adore Him ! ” 

When all was over he seemed unwilling to accom- 
pany his friends to their home, but said he would stay 
there a while and continue to think of the great love 
they had been commemorating. They all agreed, 
however, that his weakness was too great for it to be 


SEEING AND SATISFIED. 


217 


wise to leave him to find his way alone, and very 
gently Aaron and Muhkam Chand persuaded him, 
and led him away between them. 

He spoke very little, but once or twice his com- 
panions heard him speak of the water of life ; and 
when Muhkam Chand asked him, '^Baba, you know 
now where to find the ‘Well-Spring of Immortality^? 
he answered with an eager though trembling voice, 
“ Ah ! my son, it is Jesus Himself 

After dinner they persuaded him to rest on his 
chdrpaie for a while, and meantime they sat talk- 
ing and singing, receiving Christmas calls from 
neighbours, and quite forgetting how late it was. 
Nearly two hours had passed away when they went 
to call him, but he was gone. On the chdrjpaie 
lay the white clothes in which they had arrayed him 
for church, and the yellow faqir-cloth. had evidently 
been put on, for it was nowhere to be found. 

They made many inquiries among the neighbours, 
but no one had seen him go. Aaron felt sure he 
must have started for the village, as he had said 
that unless they returned that day there would be 
no returning for him; so some time was spent in 
searching along that road and in inquiries from the 
ekhawalas who were waiting for passengers outside 
the various city gates. Suddenly, as people questioned 
what the boys were searching for, and many came 
forward with suggestions or offering to give news, one 


2i8 the well-spring OF IMMORTALITY. 


man, who had just walked in from another village, 
said, Stay ! A sort of Christian faqir, is he ? Has 
he a book in his hand and a staff with the Chris- 
tians’ nishdn upon it — the Cross ? ” 

“Yes, yes ! ” eagerly cried Muhkam Chand. “ Where 
did you meet him ? ” 

“ On the road near the Christians’ cemetery more 
than an hour ago. I saw him drinking water from 
the spring near there,” said the man. 

“Why, of course,” thought Muhkam Chand. “How 
foolish of me not to think ! That, then, was what he 
wanted to do after church. Oh that I had thought 
of this before ! ” 

So saying, he hurried with his companions to the 
cemetery. At first they chatted ; but somehow as 
they went on they all grew quieter, and hardly a 
word was spoken as at last they stood by the gate. 

Muhkam Chand felt almost afraid to ask the 
chauhiddr if he had seen Narain Dass. 

“Yes,” said the man; “I saw him a good while 
ago. I had forgotten he was here. He is some- 
where wandering about looking at the graves. You’ll 
find him if you go in.” 

Muhkam Chand led the way straight to the one 
spot where he now felt quite sure he would find 
his old friend, and, sure enough, there was his 
aged form prostrate upon the small mound which 
marked the resting-place of little David. 


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“ He would ‘ hunger no more, neither thirst any more.’ The silver cord was 
loosed ; the golden bowl was broken ! "—Page 219 . 


) 


SEEING AND SATISFIED, 


219 


The boys drew near, and one of them said, “He 
is saying his prayers/’ 

“ Hush ! said Muhkam Chand, as he went gently 
forward and touched lightly the yellow dress. He 
softly said his name. No answer. Then, kneeling by 
his side on the grass and trying to raise the pros- 
trate form, he found it was true what he had already 
begun to suspect. The old man’s pilgrimage was 
done. For him there was no more any weariness 
or disappointment or sorrow. He would “hunger no 
more, neither thirst any more.” The silver cord was 
loosed ; the golden bowl was broken ! 

By his side lay the book which had been given him, 
with a prayer for God’s blessing, more than twenty 
years ago by his brother-in-law, the book which had 
really first taught him of the true Well-Spring of Im- 
mortality ; and there lay the old Taqir-st^S surmounted 
by the Christians’ nishdn, by which he had tried to 
tell others Whose he was and Whom he was learning 
to serve ; and there lay the shell from which he had 
drank his last draught of earthly water. But neither 
book nor staff nor cocoanut-shell would ever be needed 
again ; he would never more need a guide for his feet, 
nor a support for his weary limbs, nor a draught of 
water to quench his thirst — for he was satisfied ! 

His body was tenderly lifted by strong young arms, 
and laid in the house of the Christian cliaukiddr of 


220 THE WELL-SPRING OF IMMORTALITY. 

the cemetery, whence the next day a band of Chris- 
tians, leading with much kindly sympathy old Aaron, 
bore it to its last resting-place close to the grave of 
the little child, and laid it there in sure and certain 
hope of the resurrection to eternal life. 

With a heart very full of mingled joy and sorrow, 
Muhkam Chand, as he turned away from that sacred 
spot, gave thanks for two whom he had learnt to 
love so well, of whom he could now feel that they 
were seeing and satisfied ! 

“ Our citizenship is in heaven, from whence 
ALSO WE WAIT FOR A .SaVIOUR, THE LoRD JeSUS 
Christ, who shall fashion anew this body of our 

HUMILIATION, THAT IT MAY BE CONFORMED TO THE 
BODY OF His glory, according TO THE WORKING 
WHEREBY He is ABLE EVEN TO SUBJECT ALL THINGS 
UNTO Himself.” 



7 


GLOSSAEY 


Allah. Name generally used for God by Mohammedans. 

Bdbd. Polite way of addressing an old man, 

Baku. Daughter-in-law. 

Bak-hshish. Gift. 

Basantkor. A woman’s name. (Hindu.) 

Bdzdr. Street in which there are shops. . / 

Behdri Ldl. A man’s name. (Hindu.) 

Chdddar. Veil worn by women. 

Chakkarbatti. A man’s name. (Bengali, Hindu.) 

Chandarmdli. A charm against the influence of the moon. 

Chdrpdie. A bedstead, literally a four-legged thing. 

Chaukiddri. The occupation of a watchman ; from chaiiki, a chair, and dar, 
a mansion. 

Chaunk. A square, generally a part where four hdzdrs meet. 

Chendb. The name of a sacred river in the Panjab. 

Chirdg. A little earthenware lamp. 

Chuhrds. People of the sweeper caste. 

Chupdtti. The unleavened bread commonly eaten by natives of India. 
Chupi'dssi. A messenger ; from the name chuprds, which is the badge of 
service worn by messengers. 

Bdie. A name used for a midwife and for a foster-mother. 

Dharmsdla. A place in the Lower Himalayas, considered sacred, and much 
resorted to by pilgrims. 

Doolie. A sort of sedan-chair. See illustration, p. 63. 

Ekhd. A native conveyance on two wheels. 

EJcha wala. The proprietor and driver of an ekha. 

Faqir. A beggar. 


221 


222 


GLOSSARY. 


Fath Khdn. A man’s name. (Mohammedan.) 

Gain. A narrow lane in a city. 

Ganesh. Name of the elephant-headed idol. 

Gdri. A carriage. 

Gathri. A bundle of bedding or rugs. 

Ghdt. A place by a river for burning or bathing. 

Ghi. Clarified butter. 

Granth. The sacred book of the Sikhs. 

Hae ! hoe ! Expression of grief. 

Hamurmm. Name of the monkey-god. 

Indrd. Name of a god. 

Janam patri. Horoscope written out for Hindu boys. 

Janu. Sacred thread worn by Brahmans. 

Jawdlamukhi. A sacred place in the Lower Himalayas. 

Ji. Kespectful way of addressing any one. It answers to “ sir.’ 

Kachery. Court and ojfices for Government work. 

KdU. Name of a goddess. 

Kapra-wala, Cloth merchant. 

Eardni. Contemptuous name for Christians. 

Kir pa dei. A woman’s name. (Hindu.) 

Eurtd. A part of the dress, answering to jacket. 

Lota. Drinking-vessel. 

Md Gangd. “ Mother Ganges.” 

Mantra. A short prayer, like a collect. 

Masjid. Worshipping-place of Mohammedans. 

Mela. Fair or any large gathering. 

Mohindrdndth. A man’s name. (Bengali, Hindu.) 

Narain Ddss. A man’s name. (Hindu.) 

Nim. Name of a tree. 

Nishdn. Sign. 

Pacca. Bipe ; used of anything which is good, solid, strong. PoLcca 
plaster, i.e.^ strong-finished, well-made plaster. 

Panchdyat. A gathering in a family or caste to settle any question. Five 
being a quorum, the name panchdyat is used, z&panch means five. 
Pandit. Learned man. (Hindu.) 

Pardah nishin. A lady kept in pardah or behind the curtain. 


GLOSSARY. 


223 


Pankah. A fan. 

Pice. Small copper coin. 

Pildo. Cooked rice with meat or sweets added. 

Pipal. A large spreading tree— sacred. 

Prem Chand. A man’s name. (Hindu.) 

Pdja. Worship. (Hindu.) 

Rajah. A ruler. 

Ramazan. The long fast of the Mohammedans. 

Rattan Chand. A man’s name. (Hindu.) 

Razdie. A sort of eider-down quilt, made with cotton instead of down. 
Saldm. Salutation — meaning peace. 

Sanichar mdli. A charm against any evil influence of Saturday. 
Sir-i-Rdm. A devout ejaculation addressed to the god Ram. 

Shiv. The god of death. 

Sudras. Very low -caste Hindus. 

Suraj mdli. A charm against any evil influence of the sun. 

Tae Khdna. A cool cellar underground used for sitting in during the hot 
weather. 

Tamdsha. A sight. 

Tauba / “ Kepentance ! ” — a pious (?) exclamation of the Mohammedans. 
Vedas. Sacred books of the Hindus. 


AIDS TO PKONUNCIATION. 

A without an accent is always pronounced as u in fun or 0 in come. 
Hence panch and pacca should be pronounced punch and pucca. 

U is pronounced as 00 ; thus pdja is pronounced pooja, and sudra^ soodra. 


PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. 
EDINBURGH AND LONDON. 


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